


A Long Walk

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Aromantic Character, Art Student Zayn, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, YouTube, past Harry/Louis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Liam is a Type A uni student and music blogger who discovers under-the-radar YouTuber and art student Zayn by way of his beautiful RnB covers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OK, this was a weird little idea I had brewing in my head and I decided to just go ahead and write it, and hopefully other people will like it, too. Thank you in advance for reading. Comments are always welcome!
> 
> Special thank you to everyone who I bugged on Twitter for RnB recommendations as I grew up mostly on emo music. Aside from being super helpful in writing this, I have been enjoying my own music education.
> 
> Thank you to my best friend Isa who spent a chunk of her Sunday reading through my 32 pages of RPF, offering little comments and encouragement. I think I might have gotten her to ship Lirry, somehow?

Liam Payne usually woke up at crack o’clock in the morning, while there’s still enough light outside for it to be mistaken for dusk. He meets the day before even the sun does, and it’s mostly because he has so many things to do. Thankfully, his body has adjusted to this type of schedule by now, and it’s always abuzz with some excitement he can’t quite drown out with sleep. He tried sleeping in once, but he just ended up wide-eyed and huddled under the covers, trying to count the minutes until he had been in bed long enough for it to be passable as a lie-in.

On this particular morning, he padded across his dorm room, shaking his mouse to wake his computer up. Liam doesn’t bother sitting down, leaning over his desk, trying to blink away the sleepiness. His face was lit by the screen’s blue-tinged glow, eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, as he tried to make sense of the day ahead.

This is routine for him by now, an assessment for the day, something to keep him anchored. Liam checked his email inbox to see if anyone’s sent in new music he can listen to on the breaks he has throughout the day. He started a tiny music blog, strangely named “Snake Habitat,” when he was a junior in high school. It’s a silly hobby he meant to leave behind at graduation, yet Snake Habitat somehow carried over to university, where he’s in the middle of his sophomore year. His blog’s got a modest following, mostly a handful of music fans who appreciate experimenting—something that he’s thankful for.

Snake Habitat, though somewhat time-consuming, is a way for him to unwind after classes and track training. When he started it, he didn’t think it would pick up. He was just a kid in high school who liked listening to new music. No one even caught on that he was just a silly teenager, apart perhaps from his atrocious spelling. Snake Habitat was a place where Liam started posting streams of songs he liked as an end-of-the-week mix, nothing special or urgent. Soon after, he started making some remixes of his own on SoundCloud under “DJ Payno” when he started getting interested in music production.

Liam sighed as he scrolled through his new emails, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. He doesn’t really talk about his blog much. It’s a part of him that’s tucked away in a corner of the Internet, though it’s what inevitably led him to pursuing a degree in music production. His parents had been hoping for an athletic scholarship, though his interest in track fell by the wayside some time in high school, even before he took a liking to making music. Still, he managed to get on the reserve team, which he _likes_ but isn’t particularly passionate about. It was so unlike his passion for music, and how to make music, and what it means to make a good song. Liam likes to think he’s good at that.

Liam flicked through the junk emails and bins them, selecting a few new tracks that he wants to listen to. He downloaded the songs and adds them to a super organized playlist, arranged by date, and loaded them onto his iPod, a beat-up old thing that’s now obsolete. Liam is rather fond of it, though, and refuses to trade it in for something new. He readied for his morning shower, letting his music sync up so that it’s all loaded up by the time he’s ready to leave for class. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to take a morning class on a Friday, but he knows now what not to do next semester.

Despite his general cluelessness, Liam likes to be efficient. By the time it hit noon, he was done with all of his classes for the day. He got on the bus to this cafe near Harry’s place that’s just a few stops over from campus. There, he usually eats lunch by himself. It’s his time to reassess the day, figure out where to focus on for the rest of the day. Liam is _very_ efficient.

On Fridays, Harry usually stops by a bit later and they do a bit of coursework together or catch up or listen to music. Liam couldn’t wait to take a short kip at Harry’s, a soft sleepiness hitting him suddenly. This was practically their Friday routine: lunch, course work, and a short nap, before Harry drives them back to the campus, just in time for Liam’s track training at 5pm and Harry’s only class for the day. This schedule may seem intense and unforgiving, but Liam likes it because everything fits like a puzzle.

On the bus, Liam put on huge headphones (all the better to keep nosy people away) and scrolled to his latest playlist, starting up the first song. The song was a little piano-led melody that breaks off into a good, steady beat. Liam reached into his bag for a notebook. He found it easier to focus on the song, using his hastily scribbled notes to remember it if he wants to come back to the song later. _Note-taking is such a dorky thing to do_ , he thinks to himself, but he drowns in so many new songs everyday that it’s become sort of a necessity. Liam tugged at his shirt collar—a deep chambray button up, sleeves pushed up to his elbows—and unbuttoned the top button, trying to get a bit more comfortable. He managed to listen to 4 songs on the ride over to the cafe, but decided that he only really liked the first one.

Liam got off at the stop, walking two blocks down to the cafe. The bell by the door pinged as he made his way inside, picking a seat towards the back of the cafe, close to one of the windows. The waitress, Julie, smiled at Liam as he sat down. “The usual?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” Liam grinned at her. He spread out his notes on the large unvarnished wooden table—a frazzled, unorganized mess—and the to-do list he hastily scribbled out that morning. So far, he was right on track. Liam smiled to himself as he ticked off some more items on the list. He pulled out his readings for a pop culture class, wanting to get a head start on his final paper.

Liam’s usual order was a grilled cheese sandwich—what he likes to think of as the best in the city—and a bowl of piping hot tomato soup. He dipped the sandwich in before he takes a bite, the tang of the tomato soup coating his tongue before he bites into the sharp cheddar-gruyere mix between toasted sourdough. Liam loved the crusty bread, the bite of basil, the fresh crack of pepper. It was just one of life’s best and simplest joys, in Liam’s opinion, especially when the cheese is a little melty, which it always was.

Harry made his way into the cafe a little later, about half an hour after Liam does. He doesn’t wake up until after noon, and after that, there was a lazy, long routine for him to actually get ready. The routine usually involves some combination of a long post-shower ritual, some aimless puttering around on the computer, a long pause in front of his closet, among other things. Harry’s not vain; he’s just very easily distracted, Liam thinks. Liam waved Harry over, and he slipped into the seat across, breathless. Harry pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, much longer now than when they first met, as he eyed over the menu, even though he probably had all of it memorized.

“Anything good?” Harry asked. Liam knew Harry meant music, not food. Music was what they bonded over in that first _Intro to Music_ class they were both a part of, even though Harry’s actually an English major. Liam didn’t even find out until after a month or so of knowing Harry, only catching on after seeing Harry constantly thumbing through well-worn copies of _Play it as it Lays_ or _Franny and Zooey_ or _Dubliners_. “You never told me you were an English major!” Liam exclaimed, then. Harry only smiled, one amused eyebrow raised and said, “You never asked.”

Somehow, over the same stretch of time, Harry teased out the existence of Liam’s music blog from Liam himself. He never really talked about himself on his blog either, usually signing off each post with “Payno” or a solitary “P.” He doesn’t understand the compulsion of his generation to share every little detail of their lives online. That people gave other people so much access to their lives freaked Liam out a little bit. Anyway, as it turned out, Harry was already a regular reader.

“ _You’re_ Payno?” Harry said, incredulous, bright green eyes bigger than usual. “I don’t know if you’ve—um, I read Snake Habitat quite frequently. I kind of comment a lot, too. I’m hazza0294.”

“No way,” Liam laughed at him, not meanly, but in utter disbelief that _a classmate_ knew about his blog. “Snake Habitat” sounded much stupider when someone else says it out loud. Liam tried not to cringe so much. “I see your comments all the time.” He hesitated to add that they’re some of the ones he looks forward to reading, just in case it was a bit too much to admit to someone he'd only known for a short while.

“Maybe try and answer a few sometime, then,” Harry snorted, voice light and teasing, a dimple fighting its way out to be seen on his cheek. Liam fought the urge to poke it.

“You leave _so_ many, though,” he said. “Even on those really old ones where the links don’t even work anymore.”

“What can I say? I love your posts,” Harry grinned. “Seriously, mate. You’ve got a gift, an ear.”

They’ve been sort of inseparable ever since, despite living apart. Liam lived in housing on campus for the sake of convenience, but Harry decided to share a cheap apartment with his best friend from childhood, Louis. Louis is a performing arts teaching assistant and assistant coach for their uni’s footie team, a few years older than Liam and Harry. When Harry first introduced him to Louis, Liam wasn’t quite sure how to take him. He was a little crude, a little loud, but it’s hard not to warm up to someone when you spend so much time together. Liam reckoned he loved Louis quite a bit now.

Liam hasn’t known them for very long, in the grand scheme of things, but he can just tell that there’s a little bit of romantic history there. He hasn’t asked Harry, and he doesn’t plan on bringing it up. If Harry wanted to talk to him about it, Liam was sure that he would be the one to broach the topic.

Since meeting Harry, the text posts on Liam’s blog have improved tenfold. Harry had insisted on proofreading the posts before Liam hits _Publish_. Liam sometimes acted like it’s an inconvenience, especially when he’s really itching to put a post up before Harry’s done looking over his work, but really, he was thankful. “Patience, snake-y,” Harry snapped at him once, suddenly whipping his face toward Liam with an expression that can only be described as a pissed off sleepy puppy. The only thing Liam could do was laugh. Liam is and will always be thankful that Harry never asked about the blog name, not even once. It’s a stupid joke between him and his best friend from back home, Andy, and Liam never thought anyone else would read the blog. It’s just one of those things.

Harry closed the menu and asked for a glass of water, having already eaten at his flat. Liam scrunched up his nose in response to his question. “Nah, nothing… you know, special. There’s just one really good one. I’ve only listened to four songs, though, so I’m hoping to find something good eventually.”

Harry nodded. “Share later?”

“Obviously,” Liam said, making a face. It was their routine, and has been for over a year now. Harry smiled and took out a sheaf of papers, even though he doesn’t really need to study as much as Liam does. Harry doesn’t really try all that hard on many things, to be honest. If Liam didn’t love Harry so much, he’d think it a little unfair that everything seems effortless for Harry. Harry and his unkempt mane that cascades beautifully to brush along his shoulders, no matter how much or how wildly he moves. Harry, dazed and confused, and his ability to get by life without much of a hitch. _Harry is a gazelle_ , Liam often thought. Less graceful, maybe, but he looked the part, at least. If he didn’t know him, Liam could just punch Harry, really. But because he does know Harry, Liam ends up finding everything endearing instead.

They worked silently together for a while, catching up a little in between highlighted passages and scribbled down notes. When Harry ran out of stuff to do, Liam hands off his iPod so Harry can listen to the ones Liam had already heard. Harry made a face at all of them, but agreed that the first one was a pretty good one, if not wholly his type of tune.

They walked to Harry and Louis’ at just about half past three. “Oh, Li, I almost forgot. I found this _amazing_ cover on YouTube last night,” Harry started to say, their steps in sync with each other. “Not sure why I just didn’t link it, but I figured you were asleep by then. This guy is absolutely stellar, so dreamy.”

“Can’t wait,” Liam huffs. The weather’s been dry, but strangely chilly, so Liam’s in layers and brisk walking makes it a little hard to breathe. They get to the flat in no time, though. Harry and Louis’ flat is anything but nondescript, complete with a ratty whiteboard hanging by their front door like a dorm room. Except they lived in an actual apartment complex. “YOU ARE HERE,” it said in bubble lettering. Liam remembers his first time there, stumbling over a pair of shoes left by the doorway that Harry sighed at. “Louis,” he said by way of explanation. Liam has since remembered to check the floor for articles of clothing and random objects strewn about.

Liam was on autopilot, settling into their well-worn couch as Harry puts on a kettle for tea. He spread out, tucking his head under his hands and tried to drift off to sleep. Louis keeps the same schedule as Liam and was probably already on campus.

“Hey, Li?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m going to do a bit of reading, okay? Promise I’ll wake you up in time for training.”

“‘Kay,” Liam mumbled, eyes still closed. “Thank you.”

Harry shut off all the lights, propping up a chair by the window, reading by the sliver of light he let in through a tiny crack in the heavy curtains. Liam doesn’t _really_ feel tired until he’s just about to fall asleep. When Harry nudged him gently to wake him up, it felt as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“Sorry, love,” Harry said, voice thick and slow like honey, curls falling towards Liam’s face as Harry bent over his body.

Liam woke up with a grunt, stretching his limbs, Harry’s shadow moving away from him toward the mirror by the door. He tied his hair up in a bun, fixing his shirt and hitching up his bag on his shoulder. Liam sat on the couch a tiny bit longer than he usually would. He didn’t realize that he was so wound up, his body feeling like lead after the short aborted nap. In any case, he was up quickly and they’re out the door in ten minutes, on the road, listening to the rest of Liam’s playlist on the way back to school. They’ve shortlisted the 15 tracks to 4 chosen ones. They had about 20 more left on Liam’s playlist to listen to by the time Harry pulled up next to the running oval.

“See you later!” Harry waved as he drive off to park his car, just before running off to class. Liam, already dressed in his gear, adjusted his school bag on his shoulders and jogged towards his teammates. The last dregs of daylight covered them in a warm orange glow that made Liam feel like he was in a movie sequence where they drive off into the unknown, and truthfully, the glow made him a little bit sleepier. He shook off the tension in his limbs and made his way to the oval with the rest of his teammates.

 

•

 

Training today was a little brutal. Since he’s a reserve, Liam rarely got the chance to compete. But since he’s expected to be ready to step in at any time, he trained just as hard as the runners that do compete. After two hours of drills, he was just about ready to pass out. Coach Taylor was particularly prone to shouting today, too. Liam never gave any lip, but some of his cockier teammates seemed to want a terrible training day today.

Liam dropped on his haunches, eventually easing into a sitting position on the curb, as he waited for Harry. He stripped off his sweaty shirt, back muscles strained as he peels off the soaked fabric. Liam bunched up the shirt and set it on his lap, rummaging for a clean one inside his bag. For a moment, he’s scared that he didn’t bring a fresh one, but he finds a relatively clean shirt to change into. It was a faded white tee, a little thin for the weather, but pleasantly cool now that his skin’s on fire after all the drills. Harry pulled up in his light grey-blue compact car, just as Liam was stuffing his shirt back into his bag. Louis was already slumped low on the passenger’s seat, eyes drooped shut. He was still in his coaching uniform, and Liam shuddered to think what Harry’s car would smell like later that night.

He tried to find a spot on the backseat, moving Harry’s neatly stacked things gently towards the empty seat beside him, though there truthfully wasn’t much of a mess. Liam suspected that Harry has a minor case of OCD, so he’s always a little surprised that he and Louis have managed to stay in the same space for so long.

“Nando’s?” Harry asked Liam as he eyes him through the rearview mirror. Louis let out a little grunt of approval.

“You know it,” Liam grinned. He’s famished.

 

•

 

Since it was a Friday, his shift at the college radio station started at 9 pm. Nick, his sort of boss, was getting ready to leave by the time Liam got there a good 15 minutes before his show. Harry tagged along for his shift, offering himself as “a guest or a co-host or something.” Liam was way too wired to say “no,” even though a part of him knew that Harry only offered because he’s a little bit in love with Nick.

“Hiya, Li,” Nick says, smile wide and eyes bright. His quiff drooped a little on the ends. He hiked his bag onto his shoulder and gave Harry a little wave, one corner of his mouth turning up just a tiny bit higher. Nick turned his attention back to Liam, eyes narrowing a little, small smile still displayed on his face. “You okay? You look a bit peaky, love.”

Liam gave him a tired smile. “Yeah, yeah. ‘M just a little knackered. Training…” Liam trailed off and gave a vague wave of the hand, as though that’s enough of an explanation. Nick laughed a little, nodding, eyes a little concerned. Liam’s gaze stayed a little bit too long on them, distracted by Nick’s long eyelashes. He shook his head, chuckling a little, as Nick set his bag back down. He whispered very loudly, “Listen, maybe I should stay here for a while? Help you out?” Liam felt Harry stiffen beside him, as though he’d forgotten to breathe.

“I… um, sure,” Liam said, for Harry’s sake. “Harry’s going to stick around and help me for a bit, though, but um, stay. If you’d like to, that is.” Liam finished lamely. He looked over to Harry who seems to be a little spacier than usual. Liam struggled against an eye roll, but fails a little. Nick let out an easy laugh, turning to Harry.

“I’d love that, actually,” Nick said, eyes darting back and forth between Liam and Harry. Liam noticed his gaze settling on Harry just a tiny bit longer than it does when it flits towards Liam. “The party I’m headed off to doesn’t actually start until much later, so I’d very much like to intrude. If that’s alright.” Nick reached up to fluff his hair up a little.

Although they don’t really hang out all that much, apart from radio business, Liam’s always been grateful for Nick. Nick, who actually replied to his email about a possible internship at the station before he even started going to uni there, just because his studio classes didn’t actually start until the second semester and Liam had wanted to dive into tangible work right away. Nick, who actually clicked on Liam’s email signature, which included a link to Snake Habitat. Nick, who despite his blog being named Snake Habitat, actually read his atrocious posts and listened to his mixes.

At first, he had only asked Liam to help out with his own show, a sort of trial run, but it wasn’t long after that Nick gave him his own slot. “Maybe run your weekend mixes on there some time, eh?” Nick had said when he offered Liam the show. It was one of the later slots, a time that used to be booked by a radio drama that had wrapped up by then, but Liam was grateful for it anyway. Besides, a smaller audience meant that there were less witnesses when he inevitably fucked up.

Liam coughed— _earth to Harry_ , he attempted to communicate telepathically—and Harry came to, shaking his head a little, looking like a cute, heavy-lidded kitten. Again with the not-even-trying, Liam thinks. He would have been irritated, but he’s not. Like his inherent effortlessness, it’s hard to fault Harry for his inherent spaced out charm. It can be mildly annoying, especially for Liam who’s always afraid of coming off as a try-hard, but well. Harry’s Harry. Liam walked over to the control booth, where Nick’s left a short mix of his playing as a buffer before Liam’s segment.

Liam set down his bag and reached for his usual array of tools and supplies: his initial mix, an index card of maybe topical issues in case conversation with Harry eases into an uncomfortable lull, the readings he’s scheduled himself to finish by the end of the weekend, and his phone. Liam pulled open his Twitter tab and logged onto the college radio’s account. His gaze shifted to the quiet conversation Nick and Harry have struck up by the door of his booth. Liam smiled a little to himself, letting them have their moment.

Eventually, both Nick and Harry make their way to where Liam’s already seated. He purposefully sat on one of the outer chairs so that they could sit next to each other. Liam noted how Harry’s suddenly gone shy, but the smile that spread across his face was hard to ignore. He smiled a little, trying to busy himself so that neither of them have to pay attention to him. Harry took the middle seat, hands fidgeting a little.

Nick put on headphones, leaned towards the table to catch Liam’s attention. He gestured for Liam to get ready to talk as soon as the song cut out. Liam had thought Nick would kick the show off, so he scrambled and talked a little into his mic as the song faded into silence. “Oh, uh, hey?” He dragged the last word out like a question, eyes darting over to Nick and Harry who were both snickering. Liam pressed on. “It’s 9 p.m. on a Friday, and you know what that means! I have nowhere to go, yet again.” Liam pushed a bunch of cheesy sound effects, something he insisted on doing. He had no idea why, but the sounds always made him laugh.

“I’ve got two exciting guests for you today, Nick—who you all thought just left—“

“Hello, radio people!”

“—and my friend Harry who’s been on the show a couple of times. Say ‘hi,’ Haz.”

“Hi, Haz.”

“Ha ha,” Liam poked Harry’s tummy, Harry recoiling into his seat, trying to catch Liam’s hand. He let out an easy giggle. “Alright, where do we begin?”

 

•

 

Liam has divided his show in nice-sized chunks where he can afford to do a bit of reading and schoolwork in between songs. It certainly helped that Harry’s there with him, because Harry guides him along conversations and makes helpful comments after some of the songs when Liam gets too distracted to notice them ending. Nick left about half an hour into Liam’s show, so they were left on their own.

“And that one was…” Harry glanced at the list Liam had written out this morning, “the beautiful Lauryn Hill’s ‘Ex-Factor.’ Very painful for a lonely Friday night, P, some would say.”

Liam giggled and shrugged. “What can I say? I can be sort of a masochist.”

“Payne for pain, eh?” Liam winced. He tries not to say his real name on air, though he has to admit that _Payno_ isn’t a very good DJ name, if he was aiming for obscurity. Harry scrunched up his face and mouthed a sorry, which Liam waved away. He raised two thumbs up and gave him a soft smile before turning back to his notes. They are a lot messier than he thought, so he’d been rather unfairly letting Harry take the reins.

Harry cleared his throat. “Alright, we’ve got a couple more tunes lined up for you, and a very exciting segment we’d like to call having a conversation, so I do hope you stick around.” Harry pushed a few buttons and lined up a few more songs that Liam had pre-selected, swiveling his chair towards Liam. Tonight’s show, Harry noted, seems to have a running theme of unrequited love. He grinned at Liam, lips together in a tight line, behind a curtain of messy, curly hair. Liam started to mouth an apology for accidentally making Harry man his own show.

“It’s alright, mate. Relax,” Harry said.

“Right,” Liam huffed out, trying to loosen the tightened muscles on his shoulders. He has always tried very hard to keep things under control, but hanging out with Harry and Louis has somehow unwound the tight string he usually walks on. A little. He's working on it. “Are you doing alright?”

Harry nodded, grining again.

“Heart still intact?”

Harry’s grin stretched even wider as he nodded. He let out a little sigh. “You’re so lucky, Liam. You get to be around him so much.”

Liam snorted, eyes running over his notes. He reached over to fluff up Harry’s hair, who leaned into Liam’s touch and snuffed out something like a purr. _Harry is definitely a kitten_ , Liam decided then, letting out a soft chuckle. “You know, I reckon he has a tiny crush on you, Haz.”

Harry scoffed. “He _does_ not. Stop that.”

Liam shrugged. “ _You_ don’t have to think so. I’m just telling you that _I_ think so. Based on, you know, observations. From being around him so much, like you said.”

“Mmm,” Harry hummed, patting Liam’s cheek gently before resting his hand on it. “I don’t trust you, though, my friend. You’re kind of dense.”

Liam swatted Harry’s hand away and turned back to his notes. Harry laughed softly and looked over at the clock. It’s only been an hour. They’ve got quite a bit to go.

 

 •

 

So, tonight was a bit of a slow night, at least as far as requests were concerned. “Is everyone out except for us?” Harry wondered aloud, chuckling. There were a couple of people who’ve tweeted in some pretty standard and easy mellow songs—a slew of The Weeknd and Frank Ocean, some John Legend and Childish Gambino, the occasional Kanye—but Liam figured that maybe radio listeners were on the decline. Especially when it’s a late Friday night and there’s a party everywhere else.

Harry and Liam were conversing casually about the merits of beekeeping when Harry’s body jolted up and he sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Oh, Payno,” Harry said slowly, realization blooming in his face. He snapped his fingers rapidly. Liam looked at him, dumbly. “D’you think we could play that cover I was telling you about earlier? The one I keep forgetting to make you listen to?"

“Don’t see why not. Do you have it on you?”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on.” Harry rummaged in his bag. Liam knew that Harry’s the neat one, but somehow, his bag told a very different story. Liam reached over to the control panel and prepares to queue up a new song, but Harry produced his own equally as obsolete iPod just in time.

Liam cleared his throat as the last notes to a really old favorite tune fades into silence. “Alright, that was Aaliyah. If you miss her like I do, please send a tweet over to us. Or, um, not, but it’d be nice, yeah?” People rarely ever tweet, but Liam liked to make sure that whoever was listening knew that they could anyway. Harry was hooking up the cables and set the song up. He gave Liam a little thumbs up sign, a wide and excited smile taking over his face. “Up next, we’ve got a special treat from Hazza, a tune he found on the internet, apparently.”

“That’s right, DJ P,” Harry drawled a little, a raspy voice perfect for radio. Liam always thought so, adding it to his growing list of things he probably should hate Harry for but doesn’t. “I’ve got quite a tune here, best prepare yourself.”

“Yeah, just play it,” Liam said with a laugh. “Better be good, Haz."

“You’ll love it, mate,” Harry replied, confidently, thumb pressing play. “100%.”

 

• 

 

So, the song was _amazing._ It was a cover of this aggressive rap, sandwiched between the most amazing voice Liam has ever heard. Liam’s teeth grazed his knuckles as he tried to hold off on his reactions before the song is done playing. The last few beats trickle out and then there was silence.

“Oh my god, Haz.” Liam’s voice came out shaky, except he didn’t mean for it to sound that way. He was a little glad then that barely anyone listens to his show.

“I know.”

“ _Where_ on earth did you find this?”

“A little place called YouTube,” Harry said, voice hiding a pleased smile. “You might know it.”

Liam rolled his eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion. “YouTube? Isn’t that for videos?”

“Yeah, mate. Listen, I loved the song so much, I just had to keep it with me at all times, I guess.” Harry shrugged. “Um, it’s a cover of Rae Sremmurd’s ‘No Type,’ by the way, in case any listeners were wondering!” Harry’s voice increased in volume every so often. “Um, it was uploaded onto YouTube by one um, BradfordBadBoi.” Liam choked on a sip of water.

“BradfordBadBoi? That’s all we’ve got to go on? We hear the voice of an angel on earth and we must refer to him as BradfordBadBoi?”

Harry laughed a little and said, “Well, he has a few vlogs that I’ve watched. I think his name’s Zayn or something? I'm not sure what the guy who rapped on it is called, sorry.” Liam looked away and nodded.

“Alright,” Liam cleared his throat again. “For the um, approximately 2 listeners we have today—hi, by the way— _please_ tweet us any and all information you’ve got on the mysterious ‘BradfordBadBoi.’ I repeat, we are on the look-out for one ‘BradfordBadBoi.’ That’s ‘boy’ with an ‘i.’ There may or may not be a reward. Actually, there probably won’t be… a reward. But, wow. We need more of him, don’t we? Up next, we’ve got a cool tune from a cool dude.”

Liam winced at his awful joke, and put on a new song. He turned to look at an already giggling Harry, eyes widening in disbelief. The song was actually really, really good. “Haz, does he have any more? I am kind of desperate. That voice—"

“I _know_ ,” Harry said, eyes closing slowly as if savoring the memory of it. He opened one eye and looked at Liam. “You know, come to think of it, he does have a few really shitty webcam ones up. I didn’t bother loading them up on my iPod since the audio’s all a little weird. Like, crackly or something. They’re from a few years ago, so I’m not really surprised at the quality.”

Liam couldn’t wait to pull up the videos, plans on watching them all, shitty audio be damned. He pulled up Twitter instead and is surprised by quite a few responses since he last checked. It was a stream of several people, about five or six, freaking out over “BradfordBadBoi,” though there was nothing very helpful. Just a resounding clamor for “More, more, more!”

 

 •

 

Liam got home in a dazed state, head abuzz. After his show, Liam headed off to a diner close to campus, wolfing down a burger and two orders of fries. The fries he ended up sharing with Harry, who uncharacteristically welcomed the greasy snack. He felt extra tired, too, but he couldn’t quite place why. In between bites and sips, he worked on his short end-of-the-week mix with Harry. At the last minute, they ended up adding the “No Type” cover by Zayn, who Liam’s taken to calling BBB since he felt a little weird using his name. He also felt a little weird adding the song to the mix without permission, though he’s done that a number of times.

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Harry insisted, then. He walked back from the jukebox, after selecting a particularly sad Joni Mitchell song that made Liam want to hug him. “It really, _really_ fits your mix, Liam. You’ve got to admit.”

Liam chewed on his lips and relented. “It _does_ fit. It’s like—"

“A missing puzzle piece,” Harry supplied.

“Yes, exactly.” Liam shook off his nerves then and resolved to post his mix with the cover. What’s the worst that could happen? Harry dropped him off after their meal, reminding Liam that they had brunch and a movie date with Louis the next day.

Liam dropped his bag by his desk, grabbing a beer from the mini fridge his roommate, Chris, had brought in from home. Chris’ bed was empty, which Liam figured was normal as it’s a Friday night. He sighed, thinking about his own Friday night—a blur of schoolwork, running like a mad dog, and music. It might sound awfully boring to most uni students, Liam knew, but he doesn’t actually mind it. He likes his routine, even.

He sat down on his desk, gave his mouse a little wiggle to wake up the screen. He pulls out his phone and types up the post that Harry helped him with, taking care to copy down exactly what Harry typed out. Liam wasn’t actually awful at grammar, just a bit quick and careless about it. He knew it mattered to Harry, though, and he was grateful for his help, so he tried his hardest to get everything right.

A few minutes later, Liam was done with his post, a yawn escaping his mouth. He queued up the post to publish early the next morning before standing up to stretch his limbs. Fuck, he’s tired. Liam reached towards the ceiling, muscles popping as he stretched every which way he could, as far as his limbs would go. As much as he’s pretty much done with track, he loved the burn track training gave his muscles. It made it easier to fall asleep.

Liam walked over to the dorm bathrooms with his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a soft washcloth. He brushed his teeth, eyes closing over every few strokes. He wet his washcloth with warm water and gently brushes it over his face, lightly scrubbing the day away. Washing his face made him a touch bit more alert and awake, but as he sank into his lumpy bed, Liam felt the exhaustion take over his body, sleep coming to him as easily as breathing.

 

 •

 

 

> **PAYNO’S SATURDAY MIX VOL. 59**
> 
> Hey everyone,
> 
> Here’s this week’s mix. I can’t quite believe it’s the 59th so far. Thank you for sticking around, it means a lot! Number 59’s a little short, but it’s a rather pretty special one, lots of gems tucked away in between some old favorites that you might recognize. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> _Click here to listen to volume 59_
> 
> As always, I’ve got the links to purchase or stream music indicated at the end of the post. If I’ve posted one of your songs and you want it taken down, please send an email and I’ll take care of it. Feel free to send your songs to snake.habitat@gmail.co.uk and I’ll give them a listen.
> 
> x P

 

•

 

Liam’s body clock operated on a system akin to clockwork. Even though he had a late night and even though it was a Saturday morning, he woke up relatively early, sans alarm clock. He does a round of morning stretches and put on a clean tank and some workout shorts. Liam’s eyes darted over to Chris’ bed, occupied by a rather drunk and rather smelly Chris. He chuckled quietly, wrinkling his nose, as he put on some socks, then his sneakers. Liam liked to start his days with a short run, if possible. He was scheduled to meet up with Harry and Louis later, but he needed to get a few things out of the way before then.

Liam left the room quietly, slipping on his standard earbuds, and pocketing his iPod. He found his most recent playlist—pared down to what ended up as his mix this week—rather quickly. He set off on light feet. Liam’s short mix ended up to be around 40 minutes, a good enough duration for a run to start the day with. He liked to keep his route arbitrary and inconsistent, just to keep some semblance of surprise in his routine. He had been running around the same area for two years, though, so he’s not even sure if changing up his route even counts as spontaneity anymore. He thought about changing his routine when the familiar beats come on and BBB’s—Zayn's—voice leaks through the tiny speakers in his ear. Liam smiled involuntarily, as he rounded the last corner, ending back on his street. He ran up and down his street a couple of times before going up to his room, just as the song wraps up. Liam almost never pauses a song, somehow feeling compelled to work _around_ the song if he can, instead of just putting it on pause.

He ran up the stairs (four torturous flights), smiling at the burn in his thighs and his calves. He opened the door to his room as quietly as he could, grabbing his sweaty shirt from the back, pulling it off. There was a residual dull pain behind his shoulders from yesterday’s training session. Liam drops his damp shirt on the floor and kicks it off to the side to make room on the floor, rolling his shoulders back and forth. He did two sets of push-ups, attempting to push his body to a near-breaking point. He rolled over after his push-ups and started on his crunches, though his body was just about done with his morning exercises, thank you very much.

The last few reps had Liam groaning a bit louder than he’d have liked, but he wanted to complete his sets, so he was bent on pushing himself. He figured that if he really couldn’t take it anymore, his body would tell him. He collapsed on the floor, chest heaving, breaths uncontrollably loud.

“What the—“ A sleepy head emerged from Chris’ bed. “It’s like half past 9 in the morning, you lunatic. Sleep in like a normal person, maybe?”

Liam chuckled. “Sorry, Chrissy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Chris grunted, eyes narrowed at Liam, hand reaching up to rest against his throbbing temple. “Ow, my head.”

“You know, sometimes I feel bad about spending my Friday nights in,” Liam said thoughtfully. “Then I see you each and every Saturday and feel blessed that I’ve almost forgotten how hangovers feel like.”

“Fuck you, Liam.”

Liam hummed, pulling out a plastic pitcher of water from their mini fridge. He poured a glass for himself. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“Mmm, yes please.”

Liam looked around their room for a clean mug to give to Chris. He poked the lump on the bed and handed over the glass.

“You’re a saint, Payne.”

“I know,” Liam said. “What would you do without me?”

“Right now,” Chris huffed out, stretching slightly before curling back up into a ball. “I’d still be sleeping, honestly.”

“Touché.” Liam giggled, apologetically, reaching out for Chris' emptied mug. He set the mug down on a surface and gathered up his things for a quick shower. He’s supposed to be at Harry and Louis’ flat by 11, so he wasn’t able to check his email and comments like he had planned to. Liam liked to be on top of things like correspondence because he knew that that stuff tends to pile up when neglected.

Liam walked the short distance to his dorm’s bathroom, ducking into the stall nearest the door, which seems to be his preferred one. He turned on the creaky knobs, grateful that the heat in their showers works. He has heard a bunch of horror stories about dorm bathrooms. Liam rested the palms of his hands on the cool tiles. He leaned his weight on them and letting the water pitter-patter on his head, heat running down his back. It provided slight relief for his sore muscles.

Liam stepped out of the shower, feet sliding into rubber slippers. He made his way to the communal sink, not bothering to study his reflection. He flossed and brushed his teeth vigorously. Louis in particular always winces at Liam’s toothbrush aggression, but he doesn’t feel like his mouth has been thoroughly cleaned unless it’s been brushed and scrubbed, some might say to oblivion. After spitting out the foamy toothpaste, Liam leaned closer to the mirror, tongue running over his squeaky-clean teeth. He’s inspecting his face for any dirt he’s missed, though he knows he’s been pretty thorough.

He put on a clean black shirt that’s gone a little sheer from multiple washings. It hangs pretty loosely on his body, the part that rests just above his bum dotted with a bit of pilling from constantly rubbing between the swell of his bum and his backpack. Liam grabbed yesterday’s pair of faded blue jeans from where he kicked it off last night. He sniffed it, shrugged, and put it on. He hiked his backpack up on his shoulder, grabbing a red snapback and easing it over backwards on his head. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to Chris, knowing he’d probably appreciate being left alone to sleep away his hangover.

On the bus, Liam flicked open his email, starring the ones he wants to pay more attention to when he’s settled into either Harry’s or his own room. He thumbed through his inbox, around thirty new unread messages, a mix of songs and comments on his new post. Liam clicked on a few and smiled. He loved comments and made it a point to reply to as many as he can after Harry pointed out that Liam rarely replied to any of the ones he’d left.

He opened up an email just as the bus pulls up to his stop. Liam distractedly got off the bus, the email causing him to stop and slow in his movements. He stood idly on the sidewalk as he quickly read through it.

 

> **S.O.S. A REQUEST?**
> 
> _[niazkilam@gmail.co.uk](mailto:niazkilam@gmail.co.uk) _ to _[snake.habitat@gmail.co.uk](mailto:snake.habitat@gmail.co.uk) _
> 
> um hi this is zayn, or bradfordbadboi, i guess, aha. been reading your blog for years, massive fan! i was a little surprised to see you posted my song on this week’s mix… where did u find it? it’s a pretty silly cover, i don’t know if it should be on there, u post such great stuff. would u mind taking it down, maybe? guess i’m a little shy about it aha :p
> 
> zayn x

 

Liam’s heart dropped to his stomach in something he can only describe as panic. _Oh no, oh no, oh no_. He started walking towards Harry and Louis’ apartment, much more quick-paced than usual, just a little shy of a full-on run. When their building came into his line of sight, Liam sprint towards it and sped up the stairs, panting when he knocks on the door.

Liam was bent over the door, trying to catch his breath. His throat was so dry and scratchy that anything he attempts to say, he ends up coughing out unintelligibly. Louis opened the door, eyeing him confusedly. His hair had also grown longer than it usually is, and is pushed back with a stretchy black headband. “Okay, um. Hello there.” Louis stepped aside to let Liam in, the latter bulldozing through to the kitchen to get a glass of water to gulp down. Harry was in the kitchen, frying some bacon and eggs in the same skillet. Liam has always wondered how Harry manages to do that, but he’s stopped questioning the magic of one Harry Styles a long time ago.

“Care to explain your, er, state?” Harry glanced over to Liam, long hair tucked behind his ears. Today, he is wearing a salmon short-sleeved button-up, printed with lots of tiny coconut trees and hula girls, not bothering with an apron. His smattering of tattoos peeked out from the rolled up sleeves.

“Haz—Brad—ford—he—take—down—song,” Liam barely managed to stutter out, something in his throat catching again as he attempts to clear it out.

“We’re not in a rush, babe,” Harry giggled, one hand reaching out to rub Liam’s shoulder before putting his focus back on the bacon. Louis was standing by the counter, hip leaning against the counter and arms folded across his chest. His bright blue eyes were still narrowed and confused, but he doesn’t say anything. “Take your time,” Harry said.

Liam took another sip of water and tried to compose himself, heart hammering in his chest. Harry plated the bacon and eggs, bringing the cheery yellow plate over to the center of the table, where he had already laid out a stack of waffles, assortment of jams and cheese, some beautifully toasted bread, and fried potatoes. Louis turned his attention to a pitcher of fresh lime juice which he has spiked with a generous serving of white rum. Liam took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

“BradfordBadBoi,” Liam began, cheeks flushing. “Zayn,” he corrected himself, trying out his name. “He left a comment on my Saturday mix. Says he’s a really big fan, but wants me to take the song down. What do I do?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide, “Have you replied?”

“No! You know I’m bad at that.”

“That you are,” Louis snorted. Liam found the remnants of a squeezed lime to throw at Louis. He narrowly missed as Louis jumped out of the lime’s trajectory, letting out a strangled “Hey!”

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Harry started, speaking slowly as always. “We eat a little brunch, yeah?”

Liam groaned. “That’s not a plan, Haz!”

“It’s really not a big deal, Liam,” Louis said, lightly. “He probably doesn’t mind as much as he lets on? Also, I’m really, really hungry. I could and I would probably eat you if you got in the way of this gorgeous brunch.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I guess I’ll sit here and suffer through brunch.”

“Cheeky,” Louis looked at him for a few seconds, enough to make Liam uncomfortable before piling his plate high with food. Among the three of them, Louis loves breakfast food the most. He also loves mojitos the most. Liam suspected that their occasional Saturday brunches were really arranged for the benefit of one Louis Tomlinson.

Liam wouldn’t stop fidgeting, but Louis kept his mouth shut, pretending to be occupied with his waffles. Finally, Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and walked over to his school bag, which was propped on the end of the sofa nearest them. He took out his iPad, tapped the screen a few times, paused by his bag. Liam stopped pushing his food around on his plate and looked at him curiously. Harry scrolled up, tapping the screen a few more times, as he scratched the top of his left foot against the back of his right shin, before handing the iPad over to Liam.

“Here, babe.”

“What’s this?” Liam’s brows were furrowed.

“You can watch his videos, yeah?” Harry gave him a gentle smile before schooling his face into what he must think was a stern look. “Watch while you eat, Payno.”

Liam ducked his head, sheepish, instantly regretting that he had been ignoring Harry’s food. He took a big bite from his toast, which he slathered with the chocolate spread Harry and Louis keep in their flat just for him, clicking on one of the most recent videos.

A dimly lit room filled the screen. There wasn’t much to see apart from the boy—Zayn, presumably—just a set of drawers behind him, faded prints of what looked to be comics and postcards taped on the otherwise plain wall behind him. Then there was Zayn, the high planes of his face, lit by the cool blue-tinted light of his own computer screen. The low light gave a dramatic contrast to his face, black lashes and cheekbones carved out of his otherwise soft face.

“Hi, Internet,” on-screen Zayn said, a little embarrassed. “It’s Zayn. Today, I’ve got a cover of ‘Pony’ for you. Sorry, it took Niall a while to record some of the guitars for it. So, yeah, it’s going to be a little mellow, I guess. Something new, yeah? Alright, here it is.” Zayn presses the play button on the guitar track he made someone called Niall record for him, just so he could sing a cover of a song to a bunch of people on the Internet.

“Fuck, Haz,” Liam whispered, breath quite literally knocked out of him. “You didn’t tell me he was _gorgeous_.”

Harry quirked up an eyebrow, looking at Liam with a funny look. “Um, I didn’t think it mattered. You being a music guy and all.” Harry chuckled softly. Liam put on an exaggerated frown, turning back to his screen and taking another big bite of his toast.

The song, he decided, was a little too filthy for brunch. Liam could feel his cheeks burn up as he watched Zayn sing, whose eyes closed every time a word stretched for longer than a beat. His cover was indeed much more mellow than the original, stripped of its beats and the mastered second vocals, dirty lyrics half-sung, half-whispered along to a soft guitar.

“Look, I didn’t think you would be interested,” Harry explained, a touch of apology in his voice. “You’ve already got a lot on your plate, mate.”

“Oh, a poet.”

“You know it.”

“Look at his face, though,” Liam sighed. He brought the iPad over to where Harry was sitting, scooting closer to him. He wished he had a bigger screen. “Just look at it.”

“Alright, lover boy, settle down. I’ve seen it,” Harry giggled, eyes twinkling.

“What?” Liam said.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just that,” Harry waved vaguely into the air, eyes looking everywhere except at Liam. His mouth broke out into a wide cheshire grin. “…it looks like someone’s got a little crush.”

Liam, set on hard denial, paused instead. He tilted his head, looking at the screen and found himself unable to thwart the claims his brewing crush. “Well, look at him, Haz! Look at that face, man. And his voice.”

“Yeah, I’d marry his voice,” Louis said, chewing on some potatoes. “Imagine waking up to that every morning.”

 “How can you marry something if you don’t have a heart?” Harry quipped.

“How can my heartlessness be the most questionable element in the situation I just proposed?” Louis laughed out. “I can’t marry a disembodied voice because I’m heartless?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s honestly much easier to imagine an incorporeal being in holy matrimony than you is all I’m saying.”

“That’s actually pretty accurate,” Louis said, a little breathless, tone thoughtful. He pointed his fork towards Harry. “I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you for admitting defeat Sir Tomlinson.”

Liam was antsy for most of brunch, but as he was about to broach the topic of replying to Zayn’s email, Harry stood up to clear the plates and said, “Let’s watch some telly.”

Liam frowned. “But you don’t even like telly.”

“I know, but you’re so _tense_ , Liam. It’s going to wind me up. I need to put on a good show before we even attempt to reply to your boyfriend,” Harry said.

“Oh, very funny,” Liam said. He had since watched several covers, skipping over the random vlogs opting to save those for later, when he’s alone. He accidentally clicked on a video where a much younger Zayn was awkwardly dancing to Usher with two of his friends. He clicked out when Zayn started to thrust his hips, a blush creeping across his face, unable to watch it in the presence of Louis and Zayn.

Louis made his way to their lumpy couch, sitting very low on it, almost horizontally. He propped his sockless feet on the low coffee table Harry had crafted from an old discarded door he and Louis found by their flat. He reached for the remote, flipping through channels. “What are you lads in the mood for?”

“Hmm, I thought we had a movie?” Liam said. Harry was clearing the plates of excess food, stacking the plates to be washed later.

Louis kept flipping through channels, eyes on the telly before briefly turning to Liam. “The screening we want to catch isn’t for about an hour. Come here and sit with me.” He patted the space beside here and turns his attention back on the TV. He stopped flicking on a show Liam doesn’t recognize.

Liam dragged his feet and reluctantly sat next to Louis. He doesn’t say anything about the email, not wanting to annoy him. Louis turned to Liam, eyes soft and warm, but not giving anything away. “Alright, lover boy, let’s work on your email, yeah?”

A wide smile spread across Liam’s face. Louis chuckled, “I swear, your puppy eyes are going to be the death of me. Goodness, how on earth could anyone say ‘no’ to this face?”

“Harry did,” Liam blurted out.

“Yeah, well, Harry’s immune to puppy eyes, I think. Sorry, mate. You're out of luck there.” Louis cracked his knuckles, both of them leaning over Liam's phone. Liam already had the email open, the cursor already blinking in anticipation of a reply. “Alright, what do you want to say?”

“What do you think I should do?” Liam asked, shyly. “I don’t… actually want to take the song down.”

“That’s fair,” Louis said thoughtfully. “You think you maybe want to ask him for permission to keep it up?”

“I don’t know, Lou,” Liam replied. “I don’t want him to feel like I'm forcing him to keep it on the blog, you know?”

“Yeah, of course not. We can tell him that it’s a shame because we really love his cover,” Louis pauses to type. “And that we’d really love to keep it up—” Liam was about to protest, but Louis held his hand up and continued “—but, no pressure, we’ll take it down if he really was uncomfortable about it. How does that sound?” 

Liam breathed out. “It’s. Good. It’s good. Let’s go with that.” Louis typed up the rest of the email, finishing it as Harry made his way towards them, bare feet soft on the dark hardwood floors. He stood behind Louis, bending over to read the email. He hummed out a sound of approval before settling over on beside Louis. “ _Now_ , can we watch telly?”

Liam breathed out, reading over the email one last time. “Yeah. Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it, Li,” Harry said. “I get it.”

Louis shushed them, eyes and attention on the telly. “Here comes the good part."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there wasn't more Ziam in this chapter, but we'll get there! I shall also add in some more of the tags as I go along. I hope that's okay. Comments and critique always welcome! <3
> 
> Title is borrowed from a Jill Scott song of the same name. Listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSYMKUtNuw8).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zayn and Liam meet, Harry is a cute gushing baby, Niall is mentioned a lot but is nowhere to be found, and Lilo is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: This is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own, but I tried my best to catch them all.

Zayn’s response came the next morning. Disappointingly, _okay, if you really think so_ was all it said. Liam, a little desperate for a bit more interaction, sent a hastily typed-out reply that he’s honestly too embarrassed to reread. Unsurprisingly, he received no reply back. After the first two hours of silence, he busied himself with schoolwork and some errands, hands fumbling back for his phone and casually pulling up his email, only to be disappointed by the lack of a reply again and again.

Nearing the third hour of radio silence, he found that he couldn’t quite focus on anything he had to do. Not homework or even a bit of training could distract him from the glaring lack of reply. It’s not that he _expected_ one, Liam reasoned… except that he did, and maybe he shouldn’t have. Wasn’t that the polite thing to do, though, to reply?

Liam sat himself down in front of his computer, almost angrily, and went on Zayn’s YouTube channel for reasons unknown to him. There were _a lot_ of videos. Except for his music covers, all of his videos were entitled vaguely like “Take my mug!” or “What happens when you mix little sleep and Zayn” or “Hotness Prevails / Worst Video Ever.” His videos were organized by playlist—something Liam was deeply impressed by—but the titles of the playlists were as vague as ever.

Liam finally settled on one that belonged in what looked to be Zayn’s travel vlog playlist, called “to the moon.” The thumbnail of the video he’d selected featured a neutral, pleasant-looking enough landscape and was called “The Surfers Paradise Pirates.” What Liam did not expect it to be was a travel diary of a trip for two to Paris.

But of course, that’s what he got. The video was a simple cut-to-cut vlog of video clips of Zayn traipsing around Paris over what looked to be like four, five days with a bleached blonde Irish man. “Niall here is taking me to see the Eiffel Tower,” Zayn smiled to the camera, sleepily. The light was cold and grey, a beautiful early morning. His thick accent hit Liam like a brick. He continued to watch both Zayn and this Niall fellow bundled up in layers of clothes, briskly walking in the grass. “Very romantic,” Zayn continued, after which they giggled together, as though sharing a secret.

Watching the video felt a little bit like a slap on the face, with a bucket of ice-cold water thrown on for good measure. Perhaps a little melodramatic, Liam admitted, but for one reason or another, he never figured Zayn to be into blokes. Even more stupidly, he didn’t think that he would actually be attached. But _of course_ Zayn would be. It doesn’t make sense that someone as talented and beautiful as Zayn would be single. Liam didn’t know why, but these two facts bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Liam knew he should stop watching, probably, and that simultaneously feeding his little crush and watching couple videos was really, truly, horrifically masochistic, even for him. And yet, there he was. He found himself clicking on videos and reading through the comments left by a handful of viewers who seemed to know exactly who Niall was, which made Liam irrationally pissed off.

Although his Zayn marathon left him more upset than happy, he did have a couple of favorite videos. There was one series called “The Sketchbook Diaries” where it was just sped up footage of Zayn flicking through his sketchbook, shot overhead. There were videos of him painting or installing art, some older ones of a much skinnier him dancing with some friends. He didn’t click on those, trying to gain some semblance of control over himself.

Most of the videos were silly vlogs out and about Zayn’s high school from years ago, and a lot of newer ones in his college town, and the places he’s been in betweenn. What it was, essentially, was a theme-less visual diary of Zayn, offered up on a silver plate. Today, Liam had been Alice, who couldn’t resist a bite.

By the time Liam came up for air, deliberately stopping his self-inflicted pain train, the afternoon started to shift to dusk. Liam checked his to-do list for any coursework he had planned on doing over the weekend. Finding none he left undone, he thumbed a quick text to Harry, letting him know that he was on his way over to mope. He needs grilled cheese, he thought. Some hot soup, too, and a cuddle from his two best mates who he knew would know well enough to be there for him and not to ask him any questions.

 

•

 

The next time he was at the radio station, Liam made sure to catch Nick before he left. He felt a bit like a loser while he was excitedly showed Nick some of Zayn’s videos, but he couldn’t help himself. Liam knew that Nick had a great ear for all kinds of music, and even though RnB wasn’t on the top of his list of music expertise, Nick’s opinion mattered very much to Liam.

“Ah, this is aces,” he said, at the right moments, Liam thought. “What a tune!” It was variations of that, song after song, until Nick announced that he had to head out. Liam snapped back to reality, realizing that he had a bit of setting up to do.

“No Harry today, eh?” Nick said, trying to be casual.

“He had to do a bit of research, I think,” Liam said, laying down his usual equipment. There was something about this tiny ritual that grounded him and made him feel calm. Liam looked up at Nick, who was now nodding thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the floor. “He might be at the library?”

“Hey, why don’t you invite him over? Zayn, I mean. For an interview or something,” Nick suggested, pointedly ignoring the last thing Liam said. “He lives quite near us, yeah?”

“Just one town over, I think,” Liam blurted out, cheeks instantly flushing.

Nick let out a warm chuckle, “Alright, set it up!” He glanced back at the video, shaking his head. “A shame that no one’s going to see that face, though. It’s a joke, is what it is.”

“Yeah,” Liam said, mostly a quiet huff of air. Nick laughed softly, turning his eyes away from the screen, looking at Liam. “Well, I can see why you like him,” he said, softly.

Liam’s eyes blew wide open in panic, but he closed them tightly, almost immediately, as though he had been caught in a truth that was a hard thing for him to admit but couldn’t bring himself to lie about. “That obvious?" 

“Well, a) yes,” Nick started, yelping as he tried to dodge a playful punch that Liam throws his way, “because, because! B) you’re not blind. That I know of.” Liam looked back at the screen, tilting his head.

“I think he’s… um, attached, though,” Liam said, wincing at how utterly pathetic he sounded just then. “There’re these videos—"

“What? No,” Nick said, shaking his head. He was set to leave, then, but Liam’s admission had him rooted to the floor. Nick set his bag back down and crossed over to Liam. “Go on, then,” he said. “Show me.”

Liam selected a video—the Paris one—and Nick watched about thirty seconds of footage before declaring it a non-relationship. “There’s no way, Liam,” Nick insisted. “Absolutely no way. Trust me, it’s just not possible that the two of them are together.”

“But the comments—"

“The comments are bullshit,” Nick laughed out. “Zayn and this—what’s his name? Niall? Zayn and this Niall guy don’t even reply to the ones that get all shippy. And Ziall? What even kind of portmanteau is that?”

“It kind of looks like—"

“It kind of looks like you’re reading into things, mate,” Nick said. He tilted his head, looking at the frozen frame of Zayn and Niall thoughtfully. “Yeah, they’re cute, but like in a brotherly way, you know? Which, gross. Besides, who are you going to trust? Me, a reasonably older—but still young—and more wizened man with a wide range of experience in the art of relationships and a… a PhD! In the homosexual variety, particularly and especially. _Or_ are you going to believe people on the internet—Ziall-goggled tweens, probably—who’ve got enough time to watch strangers’ videos and speculate relationships based on a few frankly too-obvious clips in the City of Love?” Nick takes a deep breath, catching a slightly affronted look on Liam’s face before adding, “No offense.”

“Have you quite fucking finished?” Liam said, frustrated at not being able to get a word in. The room went silent before Nick burst out laughing, making Liam laugh nervously along. “Good God, I’ve been waiting for you to drop the f-bomb for over a year. Do you understand?” Nick said, wiping a few tears from his eyes. “I am very glad to see you’re human, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Liam said, trailing off. His eyes wandered back to the screen. “He really is kind of really beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Whoever says that that boy isn’t, objectively, at least a teeny-tiny bit attractive is a filthy liar,” Nick said. “A filthy, filthy lie machine. You can quote me on that.”

 

 •

 

The day Zayn was scheduled to come in for the interview Liam was a nervous wreck. He really did try to get a handle on things, but he kept knocking over random objects, forgetting what he wanted to the say in the middle of saying it. Truthfully, he was a whole lot clumsier than he normally was, which is saying quite a lot. He’s not as clumsy as Harry, but he’s tripped on his feet too many times for someone who calls himself an athlete.

Liam banged his head against an open cupboard door in Harry and Louis’ kitchen, wincing and embarrassed. Louis eyed him strangely, sipping on some orange juice through a crazy straw, eyebrows stitched together. He was clearly holding his tongue and trying to keep his comments to himself, to spare Liam the indignity.

“You are a lot clumsier than usual today,” Harry said, stating the obvious. Louis gently slapped him upside the head. “Ow,” was all Harry could say then, and that was the last anyone spoke, even on the drive to the station. The silence was torturous, but nobody knew what to say to keep Liam from disintegrating out of sheer nervousness.

The thing is, Liam knew that his friends know how much he actually liked Zayn. He had never even met the person but he still found his mind gravitating towards Zayn, at an alarming frequency. The first couple of times this happened, he caught himself staring into space, a few times in the company of both Louis and Harry, much to his embarrassment. Once, Chris even caught him as he smiled privately to himself. All of them had made good-natured jokes and although what they kept saying was mostly true, Liam still found himself vehemently denying any sort of feelings apart from a pretty obvious physical attraction. They all thought that his denial was a reflex, a way to make them stop their teasing or maybe to deflect from his embarrassment at getting caught. But Liam knew that if he didn’t reject their teasing and nip whatever this was in the bud, he’d start believing in a future he made up in his head.

They’ve chatted a bit, texted a couple of times, sure. It was mostly friendly “have you heard this new song?” texts or “sick mix, mate” emails. Once, Zayn had called to ask him about sound equipment for a piece he’d been working on for school.

Liam had been lying down on his belly, feet up and doing homework, when his phone began to vibrate. He nearly dropped it because he was so stunned that Zayn was _calling_ him. Chris looked at him with worry, and Liam waved him away, turning to lie down on his back. “Hello?” Liam had asked cautiously, eyes to the ceiling.

“Hi, Li”—his heart fluttered at the nickname, before he told it to shut the fuck up—“is this a bad time?”

“No, no, not at all.” His throat dried up at a worrying rate. Liam cleared his throat and reached over to his side table for a glass of water. 

“Great, listen. I’m doing this piece… for a project for school? I’m um, an art student,” Zayn said, his accent spreading warmth all over Liam’s body. Liam bit back an _I know_ , because he wasn’t going to be _that_ guy. He wasn’t. He was going to keep his cool, damn it. “And um, I needed help with some equipment issues? If you were free. To talk.”

“Um, yeah, yeah, what do you need, bud?” Liam cringed as Zayn laughed, crackly and low over the telephone line. Liam wished he could bottle it up, Zayn’s laugh, and keep it beside his bed. He realized how creepy that wish was and forced himself to concentrate on Zayn’s question.

“Right, I’m at the hardware store, and um, I realized I wasn’t sure what kind of cables to get? I figured I should ask someone who was more um, equipped. With knowledge. Of cables.” Liam heard a deep sigh from the other end of the line. Zayn’s problem was actually pretty simple, something pretty easy to Google, Liam thought. No need to call a literal virtual stranger about it. But, he refused to overthink it. He thought about what Nick said, that he read into things. Zayn was probably just one of those people who needed to be explained things to, verbally. That’s it. Simple.

He walked out of their room and hung out in the hallway, trying to get away from Chris’ earshot. “Hey!” Chris mouthed quietly, throwing a ball of crumpled paper at his head. He closed the door behind him, and sat beside his door with his back to the wall.

Ordinarily, Liam would have been a little annoyed at having to be asked a question that was easy enough to find on the Internet. But this time, he wasn’t at all annoyed. In fact, he was enjoying walking Zayn through the different cable types over the phone. It was a bit like they were shopping together, wasn’t it? Liam tried not to smile, but it was impossible.

“Well,” Zayn said finally, the conversation stretched on longer than it had to. “I guess I’d better go then.”

“I guess so.”

“Bye, Payno,” Zayn said, voice clear and bright.

“Bye,” Liam echoed, the word coming out as more of a sigh.

Of course Liam had wanted to meet him in person, but asking him to come down—for what? Lunch? A movie? A wild romp in the woods?—seemed too much. Especially when he _might_ be attached, which although Nick was adamant about not being the case, Liam couldn’t rule out just yet. Imagine then how delighted Liam had been when Nick asked him again to have Zayn over for an interview.

“I want him on _my_ show, of course,” he teased. “But it makes much more sense for him to be on yours, since you already played his stuff. I’ll just put on a few covers, maybe, play a few sound bites from your obviously delightful to-be-had conversation, yeah?”

That exchange with Nick took place over two weeks ago and Liam’s nervous wreck levels went up in varying increments each day.

“I can’t do it, Haz,” he choked out on the drive over, breaking the tense silence that had been growing all around them. They were only 3 blocks away from the station. 

“Don’t be a baby, Li. It really is unbecoming,” Louis chided from the front seat. Whenever it was the three of them in the car, he always got dibs on the passenger seat. That was one of the rules for riding with Harry. It was Louis’ rule, sure, but they all still followed it. He cleared his throat and rolled his eyes.

With soft eyes, he turned towards Liam, intending to give him comfort. “No, this is perfect, Liam. See, you can meet him properly, get to ask a lot of questions without having to talk about yourself. Then, well, you can toss him if he ends up being really annoying or creepy. No need to involve messy feelings, eh?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Liam could see Harry tense up a little, the beginnings of a scowl forming on his otherwise calm face. The corners of Louis’ mouth sagged downwards at the realization of what he just said, but he forced a smile for Liam. Liam glanced back at Harry, whose face had returned back to normal, eyes focused on the road.

“Right,” Liam replied as they pulled up, itching to change the subject, doped up on a surprise dose of adrenaline. “Let’s do this.”

 

• 

 

Zayn arrived shortly after Liam’s segment started. Liam, Harry, and Louis were all puttering about Liam’s area, talking about politics on air, which Harry brought up though neither Louis nor Liam could really, truly follow, when a head poked through the door to peek inside. Liam was in the middle of rambling, but he looked over to the door and waved him— _Zayn_ —over, as he wrapped up his long and useless monologue, each bit of nonsense greeted by Louis and Harry’s confused faces. The corner of Zayn’s mouth quirked up as he slowly made his way to sit on the only vacant seat left, which happened to be between Harry and Louis. They all waved at him, Liam holding a finger up to indicate that he would be with him after a moment.

“Alright, we have a special guest here with us right now. Tweet your guesses, though I don’t think any of you will get it, to be honest.”

“I feel so pumped to join this Twitter contest now, Payno,” Louis drawled lazily. “Real fucking thrilled.” 

“Language, Tommo,” Harry said quietly, and then, “What’s the prize?”

“There is no prize, Haz,” Liam deadpanned. 

He had a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as he pressed a few buttons on his soundboard, mostly as a personal distraction, in an effort not to stare at Zayn. He hadn’t been brave enough to look at him fully in the face just yet. The buttons he was pressing didn’t really do anything—they were just buttons—but no one had to know that. 

“Oh,” Harry said while Louis giggled, like it was the funniest thing he’d heard. Zayn grinned but said nothing, though Liam hoped that he was a tiny bit amused. 

“Alright!” Louis boomed, voice loud, clapping his hands together. “Next song, next song!” 

“Alright, alright, hold your horses, babe,” Liam chuckled. He had queued up what he’d like to think was an impressive sequence of some newer songs sandwiched between a few choice slow jams of yore, in an attempt to elicit some sticky sweet nostalgia from some of his listeners, however far and few they might be. Liam doesn’t actually know how many tune in, too terrified of the truth to count. Nick mentioned that there was a way to keep track, but Liam doesn’t know if he could take knowing just how many listeners he had. 

“Here is an oldie but a goodie by Boyz II Men,” he said into the mic. “I’ve got a few more gems lined up, and _then_ we can harass our guest, yeah? Hope you guys stay tuned. I’m still taking guesses! No prizes, but you’ll get an overwhelming sense of pride at having guessed the guest correctly. Maybe. I don’t know you, do I?”

Liam clicked off his mic, immediately turning to Zayn. “Hi,” he managed. “Sorry about that. Zayn?”

“Hey, no worries,” Zayn smiled at him warmly. “Yeah, and you’re Payno?”

“Yeah, um, Liam actually, I guess,” Liam said, stretching out his hand, startled at how foreign “Payno” sounded when someone else said it out loud. “Um, Payno’s sort of an alias, I suppose.”

Louis snorted, reminding Liam that they weren’t alone. “Kind of like BradfordBadBoi, yeah? My name’s Louis, and this is Haz. Harry. Real names, not aliases.” He pointed at Harry, who was seated so low in his seat, head nearly leveled by his elbows, resting on the chair’s armrests. He gave Zayn a small wave and a beaming grin, chin tucked into his chest.

“Hey,” Zayn nodded at them slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, looking down on the floor. Liam could see him scrunch up his nose a little, in slight embarrassment, nose ring glinting a little in the artificial light. “Yeah, stupid, innit? I was fourteen, I think, when I made that. I mostly used YouTube to watch videos, uploaded a few random clips before all the um, covers and stuff. I guess I just never bothered to switch it to something less silly? Felt like too much trouble." 

Zayn tilted his face back up again. It was then that Liam managed to get a good, proper look at him. In the relatively short amount of time that he’s been alive, Liam has realized that there were quite a number of impossibilities in life. It bothered him at first, of course. The absence of _possibility_ —that definitive “no”—absolutely grated at him. And if it weren’t for Harry and Louis (and Nick and Chris sometimes), he knows that uni life would have been unbearable, because he’s _Liam_ and Liam tends to focus on things he can’t quite fix. A version of him would’ve been unable to accept the notion of impossibility, he knew. He does find some comfort in definitive truths, sometimes. But of all the impossible things he has come to know in his life, the fact that Zayn was even more beautiful in real life is the one that Liam has so far had the most trouble grasping.

And this definitive truth—that Zayn, whose voice he fell in love with, was beautiful, too—unnerved Liam, rather than comforted him. Liam remembered an old show his sisters used to watch. “You’re so beautiful, it hurts to look at you,” was what Angela Chase, the main character, said she wanted her future lover to say to her. Liam didn’t understand what she had meant then, though now thought it sort of fit this moment. He felt burned by his own gaze, too ruined by a beauty so big that he had to look away. He was breathless for a minute, before gathering his wits about him and realizing that he didn’t live in his head and that he was, in fact, in his college’s radio station with two of his best mates. And Zayn.

He really should have let Nick do this interview.

“Didn’t think people’d see it much, to be honest,” Zayn laughed softly. He had his lush, long black hair in a topknot today, with a loose-necked sweater hanging low on his shoulders. Liam felt nervous about seeing so much of Zayn’s skin, inky black tattoos peeking out from under his clothes, for a reason he couldn’t name.

“Are you kidding, mate?” Harry said, voice low but bright. “You’ve got a pretty good viewership. I mean, _I_ think so.”

“’S decent,” Zayn said, sheepish, ducking his head. “I mean, no one really watched it when I named it, though. So I guess I’m stuck with it, aren’t I? Anyway, it’s Niall—my um, Irish friend, I don’t know if you’ve seen him in some of my videos—he’s the one with the massive subscriber count. He’s pretty brilliant at sports and like, predicting stuff. Not that I’m a sports expert or anything, but well, that’s why people watch him.”

Liam’s heart dropped low in his ribcage at the mention of Niall, but he pushed the feeling away. Other than that short bout of irrational jealousy, the rest of the interview went swimmingly. Liam was surprised at the ease of conversation with Zayn. He asked a lot about his music—of course—but there was a niggling feeling at the back of his throat that threatened to ask about other things. Other things that might’ve been too inappropriate to ask a guest on air. He wondered, briefly, how Nick managed to make his interviews personable and fun, without stepping over the invisible lines. Liam snapped out of his daydream, at the sound of Harry’s laughter. He caught Louis rolling his eyes at Liam’s obvious crush, thankfully out of Zayn’s line of vision. Fucking Louis.

But, he was very grateful, then, for both Harry and Louis who turned out to have an easy rapport with Zayn, too. It’s not that they were very hard to talk to. When push comes to shove, all three of them were actually pretty good at small talk. But, there was just an inexplicable lightness to their dynamic, a level they were all apparently at. When Louis made a throwaway joke about some pigeon named Kevin, Zayn caught it immediately and laughed so hard, he had to turn away from Louis to pick himself back up. 

Eventually, their airtime ran out. Liam was very happy with the interview. He thought there was enough bits in there for Nick to paw through, in case he wants to air a portion of it the next time his show is on. Liam signed off, and began packing up his stuff, as Zayn eased into another conversation with Louis and Harry. 

Liam was putting on his coat when someone tapped his shoulder.

“D’you maybe want to grab a bite, mate?”

Liam stiffened, eyes darting quickly over to Harry and Louis, who were standing behind Zayn and vigorously nodding in encouragement. Liam cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’d um, I’d like that very much,” he managed to squeak out. Louis and Harry shouted “Right, so we’ve got to go, see you around, it was nice meeting you, Zayn!” behind them as they shuffled really quickly out of the door. Although they closed it behind them, Liam could hear their obnoxious giggling as they ran out to the parking lot. Liam drew in a deep breath.

“You up for grilled cheese?” It was the first thing that popped into his head when he tried to think of the best thing to feed Zayn. Hearing himself say it made him feel a little shy. It was _grilled cheese_ , not some kind of obscure specialty, like he felt he had made it sound. Zayn’s face, on the other hand, lit up. “Sounds good,” he said with a smile. “I’ll drive.”

Liam gave him directions to the cafe and they talked every so often, mostly riding in an easy silence accompanied by the tinny radio in Zayn’s car. He played a selection of some newer rap that Liam hadn’t heard yet, and he made a mental note to ask Zayn about it later. They arrived at the cafe in no time.

“Penny Lane,” Zayn said, reading the sign up front as he pulled up into a parking spot. “Cute.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit corny, isn’t it?” Liam said, suddenly extremely self-conscious.

“What? No,” Zayn chuckled. “Look, I don’t say this to just anyone… but I actually quite like the Beatles.”

They stepped inside, the bell by the door clinking. Liam giggled, the bundle of nerves at the pit of his stomach slowly unraveling. He waved at Mark, who took on the post-dinner shift, as he led Zayn to their usual spot. Away from the pressure of an on-the-air interview, Liam was finally able to get a proper look at Zayn. He was a few inches shorter than Liam, definitely slighter, skinny jeans wrapping around his legs, knees peeking out from the rips. Liam smiled at Zayn’s chunky boots, which look a bit heavy on his frame.

Zayn slid down onto a seat, taking a menu from Mark. “So, um, the grilled cheese is good, yeah?”

“Only the best,” Liam said, without a thought. His eyes dart over to Zayn, who was looking at him with something like warmth. He laughed. “Alright, I’ll get that, then."

Their orders arrived shortly after, in the middle of a conversation about superheroes, of all things. Liam found it hard to find people his age who still liked superheroes in the same way, manner, and amount as he did.

(“So, what superpower would you most like to have?”

“You know, I’d ordinarily pause a bit to make it look like this isn’t a question I think about a lot, but since it’s you”—a blush or two blooming somewhere in there—“and you get me, my answer is, always, invisibility.”

“What? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, I just figured you’d pick something more… I don’t know, chivalrous. Helpful? Superhero-y? Invisibility is kind of a cheeky power to have, and pretty self-serving, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t _say_ we’d be superheroes! I just thought it was, like, a favorite superpower. I didn’t know I’d have to fight for the safety of civilians. What would you pick, then?”

“Mmm… Invisibility.” 

“What? What kind of double standard…”

“Well, I _am_ pretty cheeky.”

“What kind of superhero would that make you?”

“A bad one, probably. I think, as a superhero, I’d like to be able to fly, maybe.”

“That sounds kind of perfect, actually.”)

He tried not to trip over his feelings, tried to keep his little crush in check. Zayn took a bite of his grilled cheese, before Liam quickly remedied his method by showing him how to dip it in the soup first. “That way, you get all of the good stuff, see? Like, you can taste the cheese and the bread and the soup all at once.”

Zayn prepped his next bite then, dipping a corner of his sandwich into the soup, lifting it to his lips. His mouth was open wide to catch the soup, tongue flicking out a little, before taking a bite. Liam didn’t think he could sabotage his own self, and yet.

“You’re right,” Zayn’s smile grew and he nodded a lot while chewing. “This is better.” Liam turned away from Zayn, eyes flicking slightly up at him, before busying himself with his own food. “I’m glad,” he said softly.

Somehow, they found themselves wandering around the playground two blocks away. The air was the perfect amount of chilly that required a soft sweater, but could also still be felt through the cloth. He saw Zayn shiver a little, but Liam fought the urge to wrap his arms around him. He led them to a swing set instead.

“So, art?” he began, asking the question almost as soon as Zayn sat down beside him. Zayn giggled a little then, nose crinkling up, his tongue pressed behind his teeth. “I didn’t realize this interview would go on for so long, Liam Payne,” he said teasingly.

Liam’s face flushed even deeper, something that wasn’t lost on Zayn. “I did—I—” Liam stuttered out.

“Just kidding, babe,” Zayn said, soothing circles on Liam’s shoulder, the last word ruling off his tongue with so much ease that Liam found his initial email, in which Zayn referred to himself as “a little shy,” to be such a bogus lie. He was really out of this depth with this boy. It doesn’t help at all that he looked just about five million times better in person, if that were even possible. 

“And yeah, art,” he said. “It’s all I ever wanted to do, really. I mean, I thought… and then I started singing and stuff at uni… and now, I’m not so sure what I want to do more.”

“Yeah, well. I suppose it’s hard to decide when you’re so good at both,” Liam blurted out. He didn’t realize what he had just admitted to until he saw Zayn’s confused face. “Oh, um… I’ve seen some of your videos.”

This seemed to amuse Zayn, but instead of taking advantage of a weak moment ( _like Louis would_ , Liam vaguely thinks), he just huffed out a breath and said, “Thanks, Liam.” Zayn looked down at his feet, toes grazing the sand as he swung himself slightly back and forth. Liam was trying but he couldn’t quite make himself look away from Zayn. Zayn suddenly looked up at Liam, catching his gaze and throwing him shy smile. “I hope I’m good enough to make it as both, you know?”

Liam thought about his life, how he has a lot of things he wanted to be good at: track, school, his job, and even his silly little blog. Although he knew that track wasn’t something he loved enough to be conflicted about and that it was music all the way for him, he also knew the feeling of being torn between two good things, believe it or not. So he nodded at Zayn’s question, because he knew and he understood. And because that didn’t feel like it was enough, he said in almost a whisper and with conviction he didn’t even have to work hard to muster up, “I know you will.”

Zayn studied him then, carefully and thoughtfully, chewing his chapped bottom lip as he peeled back layers of Liam with his gaze. 

There was a short pause of silence, punctuated by a small smile from Zayn. “You need a ride back?” Zayn said, at last. Liam was both disappointed to cut this… well, whatever this was short, but he was also a little exhausted. He tried to tamp a yawn down, but he couldn’t and ended up just covering it with his hands.

“Haz and Lou live nearby, actually. I could probably just walk—“

“Nah, babe,” Zayn said, licking his lips. “Come on, I’ll drop you off.”

“Um,” Liam breathed out, rubbing the back of his neck before standing up from the swing set. His muscles suddenly felt heavy, and an inescapable warmth spread all about him, so he’s thankful for the sharp bite of the cold air. “Okay, yeah. Thanks."

They walked back to the cafe, back to where Zayn had parked his car. Liam suddenly realized that Zayn would have to drive out of town, back to his place. “Oh, Zayn. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late and that you’d have to drive back? Do you maybe want to, I don’t know, stay over or something?” Liam winced and hoped it didn’t sound like he was hitting on him.

Instead of looking insulted, Zayn gave him a warm smile, “Maybe next time, yeah? I’ve got… class tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Zayn backed up, and drove the whole entirety of the five blocks. The ride was too short to bother making any sort of meaningful conversation, but the silence was surprisingly not all that frightening.

“Well, this is me,” Liam breathed out as Zayn pulls up by the apartment building. Liam carefully unbuckled his seatbelt, looking up at Zayn who was already watching him. He felt all his blood rush to his face. “What?”

“I’ll call you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam said. “I’d—um, I’d like that.”

Zayn let out a small laugh, “Alright. Have a good night, Liam. And um, thanks.”

“Bye,” Liam said, unable to say anything else, at the risk of saying more than he wanted to. He remembered to be polite, though, and added a “thank you” and a little wave before stepping out of the car. Zayn grinned wider and waved goodbye before driving off. 

Liam’s heart was beating in his chest, as he climbed the stairs up to Harry and Lou’s. He took the spare key from the top of the bit of the doorframe that jutted outward, entering their flat as quietly as he possibly could. He does this sometimes, when it got too late and buses stopped running from this part of town to his.

The first time he snuck in to stay over, without telling either of his friends, Liam tripped over Louis’ discarded shoes. He made such a ruckus that both Harry and Louis blindly rushed out of both of their rooms, each brandishing a weapon: Harry, a reading lamp, and Louis, a scuffed up skateboard.

Liam took off his sweater, suddenly feeling very hot indeed. He went to the kitchen for a glass of water, drinking it quickly before looking around for leftovers he could pick on. He found a plate of brownies set on a counter, covered in saran wrap, anticipating Liam’s late-night intrusion. On top was a Post-it, and in Harry’s chicken scrawl was written “For Liam only. That means you, Tommo!!” Liam giggled quietly to himself, pouring himself a glass of milk, before making his way to the lumpy couch he has taken to calling his roost. He practically inhaled the cookies, washing them down with milk. 

Liam snuggled into the couch, pulling the ugly afghan throw Harry brought from home over his bare chest as he turned the T.V. on, turning the volume down low. He set the sleep timer to kick in after 2 hours. Half an hour later, just before he was about to fall asleep, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Ordinarily, Liam would ignore the alert and read it the next day. He couldn’t help himself these days, though.

It was Zayn. _Home x_ was all it said, but Liam fell asleep feeling as though he could actually fly.

 

 •

  

“I just don’t see why we have to do this,” Louis muttered. He was straightening his shirt collar, trying to decide between leaving the top button undone and buttoning it all the way to the top.

“Harry,” Liam said simply, and knew that it would be enough for Louis to endure a dinner with Nick. Louis sighed, his exhale mixed in with a bit of a frustrated growl, before nodding in agreement. He made a funny face at his reflection. Liam, who thought that the argument was over, turned back to the mirror to play around with his hair, trying to get it to stand up in just the way he liked.

“You and I both know that we are merely being invited as third and fourth wheels,” Louis pushed anyway, voice dangerously close to an irritating whine. “They’re upgrading from a bicycle for two to a 4x4.” Liam gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes. Normally, he wouldn’t let Louis get on his nerves like this, but every single day since they set up the dinner, Louis has somehow found at least a minute to complain about it to Liam.

“What?” Louis said, indignantly, seeing Liam’s not-so-subtle eye roll. “I just don’t see why they couldn’t call up someone else to go on this twisted dinner date with them. Anybody else would quite literally be a way more fun pair to go on a double date with. I just don’t see why—“

“Because it’s not a double date!” Liam said, irritated now at Louis. “He just wants to have a nice dinner with his two best mates and this guy that he has been smitten with for the better part of the past two years. You think Grimmy knows that Harry likes him? Of fucking course not! So you better not fuck this up for him, Tommo. I mean it.” Louis looked at Liam, stunned. He looked like he was about to throw something back at Liam, just for the sake of having the last word, but he instead fixed his face back into a neutral expression.

“God, it’s like _Meet the Parents_ , isn’t it?” Louis sighed, tilting his head, as he checked, once more, whether he liked the top button better buttoned or not. He felt a little bad about losing his temper, but Louis looked at him and smiled. “Does that make me Robert de Niro?”

“Who the fuck else would you be?” Liam said, playfulness returning to his voice.

“Mmm, you’ve been cursing a lot lately,” Louis said, eyes focused on his button. “I like it.”

They left the flat just in time, Louis finally deciding to keep the top button open. “In case it gets hard to breathe around Nicholas and his bloody awful perfume.”

 

 •

 

So, the dinner happened without _much_ incident. Louis tried his very hardest to be on his very best behavior, and Harry must have mentioned something to Nick because even Liam noticed that he wasn’t as insufferable towards Louis as he usually was. All in all, dinner was a decent, tense affair—an improvement from what Liam truly thought would be a complete and total disaster. 

He normally stayed away from conflict, life already handing him enough issues than he knows what to do with. He knew that he tended to overthink things, so he liked to keep things simple and conflict-free. This was mostly why he found himself wondering why he ever even agreed to this odd dinner out. His answer came in the form of a beaming Harry Styles, who kept sneaking looks at Nick and looking down to hide what he thought was a secret, private smile. Liam knew that whatever this was meant a great deal to Harry, so he tried his best, too.

When he got home, though, he received a garbled message from Louis, presumably a frantic pounding of keys as an outlet for his frustration and irritation. Liam was about to type out a reply—just an emoji—when he received a new message from Louis.

**_Thanks for listening Li !! Ur the best x_ **

He replied with hearts in all of the colors, trying to let Louis know that he loved him a lot.

 

 •

  

Liam still wasn’t sure how it happened, really, but he and Zayn start hanging out more. And then some more.

It started with little trips down near Liam, lots of _I’m in the area_ texts or _are you free for a drink, mate?_ calls. After they’ve hung out and Zayn drives off, there’s always a little ball of unsettled tension nestled deep in his stomach. But he can’t say his heart doesn’t flip about whenever Zayn comes around. It wasn’t that he didn’t have fun; Liam always had so much fun, he forgot how much else he had to deal with sometimes. He nearly missed a couple of track trainings because of late night outs, and he was a little behind on his class readings. It wasn’t _that_ that was stopping Liam, surprisingly. It was more of he still wasn’t entirely convinced that Zayn and Niall weren’t together.

“But does he ever mention him?” Louis had asked Liam once. “Like, in a romantic context?”

“Not really…” Liam said, thinking on his conversations with Zayn. Zayn would talk about Niall a lot, but they would mostly be mentions in passing. It was all “Niall did this” or “Niall did that” or “Niall played this song so much, he made me hate it.” Sometimes, he even threw in a couple of “You should meet Niall, you would get along so much.” But there was nothing overtly romantic or particularly telling, Liam thought. It still wasn’t enough for him, though. “Besides, if he was into me—like you seem to think—I don’t think he’d be talking to me about his _boyfriend_ as much as he talks about Niall. That doesn’t make sense, Lou,” he finally said.

“I know, babe. Just checking, alright?” Louis replied, soothingly. “Look, Liam. I may not know much about love, but I do know that I have to protect you from assholes that have confirmed, 100% true and real boyfriends. It is also very much my duty to encourage my best friend’s coupling with super hot, artsy musicians who have perfected the smolder… and are _probably_ only just good friends with _probably_ perfectly decent Irish sports freaks. I mean, I’m just saying.”

Liam threw a pillow at Louis, but it was a half-hearted throw, and when Louis resurfaced from the sudden impact, ready to tear Liam a new one, his face softened at the soft grin that was on Liam’s face.

“You have to ask him at some point,” Louis said gently.

Liam sighed, “I know. I will. It’s just… part of me kind of doesn’t want to know? You know, if he _is_ one of the assholes that have confirmed—"

“—100% true and real—”

“—100% true and real boyfriends that you want to protect me from.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis said. He snuggled deeper into the couch, burying himself under all the throw pillows, Harry’s afghan blanket, and his own much-too-large sweater. He looked thoughtful, under the mess. “It’s better to know, though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam conceded, sitting over by Louis to snuggle in with him.

“If he hurts you, you know I’m going to fight him, right?”

“My hero,” Liam said, dozing off.

“Ask him, yeah?" 

“Okay,” Liam said then. And that is why, Liam was fidgeting a lot with his hands under the table, on a wonderful Tuesday night. He was finishing up quite an early dinner with Zayn because they had a movie to catch. He knew it sounded suspiciously like a date, but he can’t let himself believe it. Not yet. So, as he fidgeted a lot with his hands under the table, and as Zayn finished up the last bit of their sushi, Liam decided it was time to ask Zayn.

Unfortunately, Liam had awful timing sometimes, especially when he has ceased paying attention. Just as Zayn was taking a sip of miso soup, Liam found himself blurting out “Does your boyfriend like sushi, too?”

Zayn choked on his soup, leaving Liam wide-eyed and helplessly trying to coax Zayn out of his coughing fit by rubbing circles on his back, and weakly slapping it. He felt the blood drain out of his face as Zayn coughed wetly on a napkin. When Zayn finally stopped coughing, he broke out into laughter. “Sorry, babe,” he said. “Caught me by surprise there. I mean, clearly." 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Liam apologized, blushing profusely at the pet name he had barely gotten used to. He briefly wished for a hole he could live in for the rest of his life, or for this evening, at least.

“Got nothing to be sorry for,” Zayn replied. He looked up at Liam shyly, a small smile forming on his lips. “So, boyfriend? I don’t think I quite get what you mean…”

Liam looked at him pointedly, mentally willing him to say Niall’s name, so he didn’t have to. When it felt like too long of a time with neither of them saying anything, Liam broke. “Um, Niall?”

“Niall?” Zayn asked, confused. “What about Niall? You’re not—? Oh, babe, babe. No, there’s no—I mean, not anymore. We weren’t really anything, um, like that. Just got along pretty well, I guess. I was a pretty shy freshman… and he kind of drew me out of my shell,” Zayn explained. “Shoved me out of it, really.”

Zayn finished with a smile and an expectant look, rubbing his chin gently. Liam’s mind briefly flashed to how Zayn’s beard would feel against his thigh.

“Okay,” Liam breathed out, saying it half to himself and blushing even harder. This was a lot to take in, and it certainly didn’t mean anything. He managed to give Zayn a small smile anyway. Zayn asked for the check and paid for it, even after Liam had insisted on splitting the bill.

“You can get the popcorn, yeah?” 

Liam did manage to end up enjoying the movie far more than he thought he would have, had he not brought the Niall issue up. Although he was terribly embarrassed, Liam knew that Louis was right. It _was_ better that he knew. He was able to concentrate on the movie, and on his date-like outing with Zayn. And when Zayn gently rubbed the top of Liam’s right thigh when their favorite character came onscreen, he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Because even if he still wasn’t sure if Zayn liked him, he was 100% sure that he wasn’t an asshole with a confirmed, 100% true and real boyfriend.

On the walk back to the parking lot, Liam felt an overwhelming need to apologize. “Hey, I’m sorry I assumed that you and Niall were…”

“’S’alright, babe,” Zayn replied. “No harm done.” He looked at Liam, thoughtfully, bumping their shoulders while they walked to the car. Zayn linked his pinkie with Liam’s and they swung their arms lightly, all the way back to Zayn’s car. Liam felt a flush of warmth overtake his body, thinking about how nice it would be to maybe fall in love with a boy like Zayn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, sorry this took so long! This is going a super slow-burn route, which I didn't intend for, but let's see where it goes? Thank you so much for reading, and for all the nice comments, to which I shall reply to in a bit.
> 
> Thank you to communitychannel, charlieissocoollike, thewinekone and thehill88, from whom I’ve snatched some video titles without permission.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://presidents.tumblr.com/), by the way. Holler if you are, too. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get vlog transcriptions, a museum date, the low down on HarryandLouis, some beach shenanigans (and mentions of recreational drug use), tent disasters, a studio tour, and a little bit of platonic Tomlinshaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I was trying to add some multimedia elements to it, but it wasn't working out and I realized that it was actually making the process much slower than it already was. I'm thinking of posting some of the planned elements on [my 1D sideblog](http://pres1Dents.tumblr.com) instead, but I don't know. Perhaps this is better as a text-only thing.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy. Thank you so much for your patience, and for reading it in the first place, and for putting up with me. x

[ INT. NIALL'S ROOM - NIGHT ]

THE ROOM IS DARK, two figures’ faces lit by the dim computer screen glow; a deep orange wall behind them, bare with two faded and peeling posters of sports teams.

THE FIGURES, two males, are sitting on a bed, one of them a shock of pale skin and blonde hair, the other tan and raven-haired.

 

NIALL:  
Hey, everyone! Long time, no see. Today, we've got ourselves a beautiful, lovely special guest: the one, the only—Zayn Malik!

(Cheering crowd sound effects) 

ZAYN:  
Alright, alright, knock it off.

NIALL:  
So, Zed here wanted us to do something different, something I haven't done in quite a while, to be honest. And, something you lot have been asking for since The Dawn of Time.

If you're here for the sports, I'm terribly sorry but you're just going to have to click out because today, we are doing a tag.

ZAYN:  
(Turns to Niall, whispers) Hey, maybe this wasn't such a good—

NIALL:  
(Quietly, to Zayn) Hey, stop, we're doing this, yeah?

(Faces the computer screen, voice booming) Alright, so, since many of you've been asking us to do this—repeatedly, may I add—we have given in to your wishes. I present, as you may have surmised from the title: The Boyfriend Tag. Zaynie, the questions?

ZAYN:  
(Mumbles indistinctly and takes out a sheet of paper)

NIALL:  
(Snatches piece of paper from Zayn, looking over the questions) Alright, so here are the questions. Wow, there are 25, huh? I think... I think I'm going to set a timer so we go through these really quickly, then we can take turns with the questions. Like a rapid-fire round. What do you think, Z?

ZAYN:  
Um, sounds good to me.

NIALL:  
OK, let's try to do it in 3 minutes, just to spice things up, put a little speed to it, yeah? I'll start, then we take turns.

Number 1, Where did we meet?

ZAYN:  
Freshman orientation. You kind of knocked into me then like, never let go.

(Laughs) Um, two, what was our first date?

NIALL:  
(serious, unreadable expression) Library group study then a coffee afterwards, where we went Dutch. I am still swooning, by the way.

(Crowd laughter sound effects)

NIALL:  
Where was our first kiss and how was it?

ZAYN:  
Wow, um. Pub crawl, you dropped me off and kipped on the couch. It was very sweet, wasn’t it? Okay, next: Did you know that I was the one?

NIALL:  
This is an invasive set of questions, Zed. (Laughs) You're the one for me. You're my ecstasy. You're the one I need, yeah? First impression?

ZAYN:  
Too noisy for his own good! Next: When did you meet the family?

NIALL:  
Holidays, freshman year, I'm sure. Mullingar was too far to travel to for such a short break, so I stayed with Zayn's, didn't I? We did Vlogmas and it was lots of terrible fun. Click on Zed’s gorgeous mug to watch them!

OK, um, do we have a tradition?

ZAYN:  
If annoying me counts as tradition, then our whole relationship is one, innit? (Laughs) I suppose binge-watching THE SOPRANOS every Friday night is a tradition, maybe?

NIALL:  
Sure, but for traditions to work, both parties have to be present...

ZAYN:  
Hey, you. Shut it.

NIALL:  
I mean, I'm just saying.

ZAYN:  
Alright, but now you can stop. What was our first road trip?

NIALL:  
That Malik family holiday. We took turns at the wheel, but Zayn cheated a lot and pretended to be asleep whenever it got closer to being his turn. And I let him sleep because he looks very, very soft. Next: Who said "I love you" first and where were we?

ZAYN:  
Me. We were in the common room and you brought me a sandwich.

NIALL:  
I play the role of the thoughtful boyfriend pretty well, don’t I? Er, what do we argue about the most?

ZAYN:  
Which mutant has the best superpower, probably.

NIALL:  
That's true.

ZAYN:  
Who wears the pants in the relationship?

NIALL:  
It's a give-and-take relationship! The foundation of a good relationship is knowing when to give in and when to stand your ground. (Thinks carefully) Although I do get dibs on T.V.

ZAYN:  
And I get dibs on food when we share. Alright, here's a good one: If I'm sitting in front of the T.V., what am I watching?

NIALL:  
Easy. Whatever I'm watching. (Laughs) What dressing do I get on my salad?

ZAYN:  
Trick question, you wouldn't get a salad of your own volition. Though, if you did, it would just be regular caesar dressing, because you can't be bothered to pretend that vegetables taste good.

NIALL:  
Ah, a man who knows my heart. He's a keeper, everybody!

ZAYN:  
I sure am. Erm, What's the one food I don't like?

NIALL:  
(snorts) The one food? I can name food you do like: chicken, and er, grilled cheese.

ZAYN:  
Wow, did you really just—

NIALL:  
What? It's true! (Laughs) We go out to eat, what do I get to drink?

ZAYN:  
A pint, for sure. Maybe a Gatorade or a Coke if it's before noon. What shoe size do I wear?

NIALL:  
I dunno and I don't intend to find out. If I was collecting anything, what would it be?

ZAYN:  
Man, um. Probably stamps? I don't know! Golf memorabilia?

NIALL:  
And to think I thought you knew me.

ZAYN:  
Sorry.

NIALL:  
Nothing I can do about where your mind goes off to, is there?

ZAYN:  
I suppose not. I still love you, yeah?

NIALL:  
Yeah, yeah, let's get a move on. It’s hats, by the way.

ZAYN:  
Oh, right. Um, what is my favorite type of sandwich?

NIALL:  
GRILLED CHEESE. (Smiles and waggles eyebrows at the computer screen) Did I win?

ZAYN:  
Ha, ha. Very funny. Get on with it, babe.

NIALL:  
What would I eat everyday if I could?

ZAYN:  
Poutine. You had it like, one time, and you couldn't shut up about it. That or my mum's curry. What is my favorite cereal?

NIALL:  
Easy, Weetabix. What is my favorite music?

ZAYN:  
You know what, I'm not even sure. (Faces the computer screen): He listens to like, a ton of music, from old soft rock to 90s boy bands to really shitty emo, so I don't actually know. Nialler’s the annoying type who says (puts on Irish accent) ”I listen to all types of music." (Drops Irish accent) Which is concerning, to be honest, Niall.

NIALL:  
Yeah, I'll worry about myself, thanks.

ZAYN:  
What's my favorite sports team?

NIALL:  
Ha, trick question. None because you are a sports-hating heathen, and I ask the Powers That Be everyday why I'm friends with you.

ZAYN:  
Um, because I'm amazing, and you love me, duh.

NIALL:  
Well, you got me there. What is my eye color?

ZAYN:  
The bluest, most beautiful blue. Who is my best friend?

NIALL:  
Better be me! Okay, here's the last and final one: What is something that I do that you don't like?

ZAYN:  
Ah, probably insist on making this boyfriend tag after I took back saying I wanted to do it and making me sit through an entire video answering TWENTY-FIVE questions about you—Niall, who, for the record and for anyone watching this, is not my boyfriend.

NIALL:  
What Zayn means, friends, is that he loves me a lot but I am definitely not his boyfriend, and he is also single and will kill me once I stop recording if I say any more, okay, bye!

(Giggles as Zayn tickles his ribs; Niall reaches over to stop recording device)

 

FADE OUT. 

•

Liam had been called “slow” a handful of times and not necessarily concerning his track career. He wasn’t quite the brightest student, but he felt compelled to do really well in school, so he studied harder than most of his classmates who seemed to coast by and got good grades anyway.

He was apparently not particularly fast in the romance department either. Quite the contrary, as most of his relationships (and non-relationships) were so slow-going that they ended before a second spark could happen. People grew tired of waiting, and at first it confused him a little, hurt him even. But by now he reckoned that he’s used to it.

It’s just that Liam had a lot of things to do. He tended to put romance on the back burner and chose to concentrate on his music production, or his classes—just making sure his overall track record remained “good enough.” He figured that true love would find him in the end, as the song his dad always listened to went, though he often found himself wondering if it was possible to even have it all anyway. If true love would indeed find him in the end, did it mean that Liam had to give up something else he loved to make room for it?

Today was the beginning of a weekend Liam was looking forward to. He needed to re-energize himself and catch up with everything else he had left unintentionally undone. Ever since he met Zayn, Liam found himself more and more easily distracted. Currently, he was a toned down version of himself on the day that he met Zayn: a nervous, jittery mess, though perhaps slightly less twitchy. 

Liam sighed as he did a round of morning exercises. Working out, focusing on the dull throb of pain always helped him clear his mind, which had been a lot more scattered lately. He had scrambled to put together a mix for his radio slot, unable to look at a disappointed Nick in the eye, and he narrowly escaped a late penalty for arriving at practice just in the nick of time. Last week, he also nearly missed a project deadline. His dinner with Zayn had gone three hours over the time he thought it would, so he very nearly didn’t have time to finish the assigned work. He didn’t even notice the late hour until Zayn started yawning with increasing frequency as the night wore on. It’s times like those that he was thankful that Zayn seems to have a sleepy streak.

Add to that, his muscles have been cramping up a lot from exhaustion and dehydration, just because his physical state was not up to par. These almost-failures kicked him into a state of focus long enough for him to decline Zayn’s invitation to hang out. Invitations that he realized he had come to expect from Zayn, and even though he really, _really_ wanted to say ‘yes,’ he made himself stay put and realign his life.

Liam stopped working out abruptly when he realized that his thoughts rounded the corner and ended up right back at Zayn. Again.

“It turns out that you _can’t_ have it all, Payne,” he muttered to himself, hopping up from his round of sit-ups and began rearranging the things on his desk. This was something that always helped to calm Liam down, a mindless exercise that cleared both his mind and his study area.

“Ah, he speaks,” Chris said, voice muffled from under the covers.

“What?”

A sleepy head poked out from the giant pile of covers Chris was buried under. “What? You’ve forgotten about me already?” He teased, eyes sleep-heavy, and hair a mussed-up mess. Chris smiled widely at Liam, eyes still half-closed. “Nothing, mate. Just thought you’d lost your ability to speak, that’s all. That, or you’ve elected to not speak to me at all.”

“You know, normal people would just say something like ‘Hey, roomie! I missed you,’” Liam replied, with a light laugh that sounded a little bit desperate to him. “Or like, ‘Want to have lunch?’”

“Ah, yet another thing you seem to have forgotten,” Chris said, heaving himself out of his bed, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. “I’m not quite normal people.” He stifled a yawn and stretched out his limbs. Liam felt a slight pang, realizing just how much he missed his roommate.

“That you aren’t,” he said, quietly, in reply. Chris made his way to the bathroom, middle finger held up in response to Liam, trailing a bath towel with him.

Liam missed this kind of thoughtless banter with Chris. It always had been easy and comfortable with him—something Liam feels infinitely lucky for, given that he had to room with the bloke. It’s a nice change of pace from constantly thinking about Zayn and worrying what he thought of him. Liam normally didn’t care to dwell on others’ perceptions of him, learning early on to tuck his insecurities deep within himself, to hide out and close himself off first before anyone could suss out how boring and unremarkable he was.

That was how he had been surviving life as he knew it, after encounters with people who were less than kind. He almost forgot what it felt like to worry about what someone else thought about him. He hadn’t thought about what it was like to want to seem like someone cooler, or more cultured, or smarter in a while. Even stranger, Liam hadn’t thought about actually being with someone in quite a long time. It felt almost like being in a foreign country, relearning how to navigate the same mundane things in a different, unknowable language. 

_Fuck_ , he thought then. _What am I doing?_

He willed his pulse to still and reasoned with himself. _You’re just hanging out with a cool guy, that’s all. That’s it._ Damn, he had even forgotten how to lie well.

It’s not like his life is in shambles, either. Things just aren’t lined up as neatly as they used to be, which unnerved him a little. Liam thought about Zayn again, and a small part of him, one such part that’s bigger than he’d like to admit, thought that throwing everything else off-kilter would maybe be worth it, in some unnameable way. It scared him a little.

It took Liam a couple of minutes before he realized that he had been standing there with the pencils he meant to organize on his desk, clutched tightly and awkwardly in his hands while he stared into space. Chris walked back into their shared room, wet hair dripping from the shower. Liam waited until he had put on a shirt, then the rest of his clothes.

Chris had this annoying habit of wearing a shirt before drying his hair, Liam thought. Drops of water seeped into his shirt, making Liam wish he’d dry his hair faster. He realized he was still gripping a handful of pencils, though now with more force, so he set them down on his desk, still unorganized.

“Hey,” he nodded to Chris. “Up for some breakfast?”

•

So, breakfast was eventful. He learned that Chris had been seeing someone new, someone who was friends with Liam’s ex-girlfriend. Liam wouldn’t have been as relaxed as he was about this, had he been alone and single, and not seeing a gorgeous guy himself. Luckily, he had been seeing a gorgeous guy, and he told Chris as much.

Chris only smirked and said, “I’m not an idiot, Payno. Unlike someone I know, I do pay attention.”

The flush in Liam’s cheeks reached his chest and he ducked his head down to slurp the rest of his now-cold coffee, even if it meant ingesting a bit of the dregs sitting at the bottom of his cup. “Nasty,” Chris remarked. “You want another cup?”

Liam nodded, and he ended up unintentionally gushing about Zayn some more, which led to Chris smirking much more than usual, which then made Liam want to punch his face, though an even bigger part of him was glad that Chris was even listening to him prattle on about Zayn. “You got a picture, then?” he asked him.

Liam hesitated, but brought out his phone, too proud of Zayn’s face, really, to stop himself. It was a photograph of the both of them, anyway, so he was _technically_ just showing his roommate a photo of him. With a beautiful boy. To brag. Chris let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“I know,” Liam said, a little too airily than he’d have liked to.

“Well, good luck to you, pal,” Chris said, smiling. He held his glass—a breakfast mojito—up in a mock toast and Liam rolled his eyes before bringing his coffee cup to clink it in greeting.

His plans of dialing back on socializing and getting uni stuff done goes to shit when he gets a text from Zayn later that day.

 

> _Free day tom @ the museum. Come with? I can pick u up x_

Liam knew he shouldn’t, that he had to get things in order, but the ‘x’ was fucking with him, and talking to Chris about Zayn made him want to _see_ Zayn, self-control be damned. It made him miss him, almost. He unlocked his phone and typed out a quick reply, but he got a new one right away.

 

> _Promise we’ll start early, have u back @ midnite aha :) x_

And after that, Liam just couldn’t say no.

When Zayn pulled up early the next day, Liam was already waiting by the curb. Zayn rolled down the window, eyes bright as he said “Missed me?” He leaned over and opened the passenger door, allowing Liam to slide in.

“Alright, I’ve got breakfast in the back, and coffees are here,” he said, pointing to the cup holders in between them. “I figured we could have breakfast when we get there, but you have the option of loading up on caffeine. If you want to.”

Liam opened his mouth to say thank you, but Zayn beat him to it and said, “Or, you could kip? You look like you might be too sleepy, maybe.”

Liam huffed out a laugh, “Are you kidding, Zayn? I’m like the morningest morning person. Ever, probably. I can keep you company.”

“Morningest morning person, huh? Well, alright, then.” With a grin, Zayn pulled away from Liam’s street and drove them into the city for a day at the museum.

There was a special exhibit on street art, graffiti artists, and public installations in one section of the museum, which was nearer Zayn’s neighborhood. Liam thought they’d be spending the most time there, as he noticed that a lot of Zayn’s own art seemed to be influenced by this genre and the artists that are part of it.

He’d only seen pictures of these pieces in books and on the Internet, so it was quite an experience seeing them in the flesh for free. There was work by Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Haring, Barbara Kruger, and Jenny Holzer, and there were walls with photographs by street photographers like Richard Sandler, Jamel Shabazz, and Robert Herman that somewhat contextualized the entire exhibit.

Liam’s favorite turned out to be a massive work by Keith Haring. “It’s _so_ nice, Zayn,” he said, breathless at the enormity of it. Zayn smiled at him, wide, and secretly tried to take a photo of Liam next to it, as photography wasn’t allowed for that particular exhibit. He managed to take one that’s cut off the right side of Liam’s face, but Liam had looked at it like it was the best present anyone had ever given him. The smile he got from Zayn in return made him feel warm all over.

Curiously, they ended up spending the most time in a small room of the museum’s permanent collection. There were a couple of paintings hung around the walls, two arches going through opposite walls, and a low bench in the middle of the room. Zayn’s face lit up when he peeked through the arch and saw that the bench was unoccupied. He sat down quickly, placing his bag on his lap, and looked up at Liam with a small smile, patting the space beside him.

“This was always my favorite spot,” he said quietly, making an effort to whisper. “My mum used to bring me here on Saturdays she had off because it was the only place she could calm me down, yeah? Got me a bunch of crayons when she realized just how quiet and focused I’d get when I sat down to draw.” 

Zayn looked away, pointing to a fairly large piece on the far wall. “That one’s my favorite. It’s not really that famous, but I always liked drawing it.” He gave Liam a piece from his sketchpad, the rip of paper deafening in the quiet of the room. “Want to give it a shot?” 

“Um, sure,” Liam said. The piece of charcoal felt awkward in his hands, and his strokes across the paper felt a bit stiff and forced. “Here,” Zayn said, handing him a book from his bag, to put under the sheet making it easier for him to draw. Liam mumbled a quiet thanks, and set off to draw.

Zayn’s movements flowed effortlessly, his eyes looking up at the painting every so often, to capture a small detail or to look for something he might have missed before. Liam pretended not to notice how random strands of Zayn’s hair fell in a perfect frame around his face.

Even with his art, it seemed like Zayn was secretive. At least, while he was working on his piece. After a certain point, Liam stopped trying to sneak looks at Zayn’s sketch and concentrated on working on his own.

“You know, I have to say that I’m a little surprised,” Liam said, chuckling. “I thought you’d be more into, you know, the street art stuff we saw earlier.” They’d been drawing in silence for about half an hour. He looked at his sketch and resisted the urge to drag his pen all over what he’d drawn and cover it up. It looked nothing like the painting he’d been copying, though he wasn’t sure why he even tried.

“Nah, babe, I love all of those people. Like, they did such a massive thing for art at the time, just blew doors wide open and I feel connected to them somehow,” Zayn replied. “I do love drawing, though. Like, Basquiat learned how to draw from a copy of _Grey’s Anatomy_ , did you know that? People just assumed he couldn’t, but he proper knew how to draw.”

Zayn looked at Liam’s sketch before Liam could reply and said, “Aha, and so do you, it seems.”

“What? It’s just a silly doodle,” Liam countered, blushing furiously. He hoped the red in his cheeks wasn’t that obvious, but he knew it was wishful thinking.

“Ah, Perfect Payne,” Zayn said, pointedly ignoring Liam, lips splitting in a small smile. “I do wonder what it’s like to be good at everything.”

Liam felt a bubble of irritation build inside his chest. “‘M not,” he insisted. “If anyone’s perfect here, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Stop,” Zayn giggled, and Liam’s resolve softened just like that. “I just want to get real good at _something_ so I can get out of here. The world is so big, babe. I want to see everything.” Zayn gave his drawing a once-over, looking at the painting, and nodding in approval. 

“I don’t know,” Liam said. “I kind of like it here.” _It’s where you are_ , he thought, but bit it back before it slipped out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Zayn sighed. “I suppose it’s not so bad… Don’t you feel stuck, though? I _feel_ stuck all the time. Like, I thought uni would solve it, being away from home and seeing more of the world, but then… I dunno.” He shrugged a little helplessly, brows furrowed in concentration. “It helped a little, I guess. But, I mean, I’ve always wanted to live some place where I could matter, yeah? But still be, I don’t know, invisible. Not how we’re totally, completely invisible right now.”

“Okay,” Liam said. “So just _partially_ invisible, then?”

Zayn burst out laughing, teasing a smile and a chuckle out of Liam. “Alright, then, shut it,” he said. “Now, you’re just making fun of me.”

“Trust me, Zayn,” Liam said, face serious with mirth behind his eyes. “There’s no city big enough that you could get lost in.”

Zayn stopped laughing, face sober but delighted. “I don’t want to be famous,” Zayn said finally. “I think I just want to matter.”

•

[ EXT. JADE’S YARD - DAY, SUNNY ]

THE SCREEN IS FLOODED WITH SUNLIGHT, two figures—a blond Niall and a brunette girl, Jade—are sitting, cross-legged on the grass.

 

NIALL:  
Hello! I’m here with the lovely, the talented Jade who’s going to help me with a bit of dancing, maybe? I’m not sure what we’re going to be up to just yet, actually. (Laughs)

(Niall’s special intro song for Jade plays)

JADE:  
Right. I’m not sure why I have an Irishman in my yard this beautiful Wednesday morning, but I didn’t have class and he didn’t have class, and now I suppose here we are. I do not think there will be dancing.

NIALL:  
Oh yes, there will be.

JADE:  
Hmm, nope. I don’t think so. 

NIALL:  
I’d like to see you try and fend off my Irish charm. 

JADE:  
Er, have been doing that for the past two years, mate.

NIALL:  
(Clutches chest) Ouch! Skewered me right in the heart, didn’t ya?

JADE:  
Oh, no. What a pity. So sorry about that.

(Clears throat) However, I recall a bit of talk about helping me with a project.

(Peers into the camera lens, feigning searching for something) This does not feel much like helping me out, I’ve got to be honest. 

NIALL:  
Patience, hey! Just thought it would be quite nice to film a little vlog here, while we wait for Zayn. See, my viewers have all been clamoring for Jade. 

JADE:  
Oh, have they?

NIALL:  
It’s been “Where’s Jade?” "What's Jade up to?" "We're tired of your stupid face" all month long. It’s exhausting.

(Looks at the screen) And I thought you lot were around for my sports wizardry.

JADE:  
They should not be blamed! (Laughs) Alright, Ni. What do you want to talk about?

NIALL:  
(Holds a fake microphone) The people have spoken: what’s been happening in the life and times of one Jade Thirlwall?

JADE:  
(Pulls a face) Ahh, I think I’d rather be dancing! 

NIALL:  
As you wish.

(Niall’s special intro song for Jade plays again) 

NIALL:  
(Pulls Jade up with him, from their sitting position on the floor)

JADE AND NIALL are partially on view onscreen, heads obscured because of their standing position.

NIALL twirls Jade around, both are laughing hysterically.

ZAYN:  
(Offscreen) S’appenin’?

NIALL:  
(Addresses Zayn) Oi! Zaynie, you’re here! And who’s—hey Liam!

JADE:  
(Addresses Liam) How do you know each other?!

CUT TO:

ALL FOUR OF THEM—JADE, NIALL, ZAYN, AND LIAM—are in frame, sitting cross-legged on the grass. 

NIALL:  
(To the screen) Right, so it turns out we’ve got a little bit of a missed connection going on here.

(Addresses Liam) Tell ‘em, Liam.

LIAM:  
(Looks nervously at the camera) Right, um. M’name’s Liam. I knew er, Jade here from when we were six-ish, maybe? 

JADE:  
Yes, swimming lessons. We were from the same small town, and I moved when I was about er, ten-ish? 

NIALL:  
Swimming, huh? Fun fact—

ZAYN:  
(Groans) Niall, please.

NIALL:  
(Laughs) Please what? You know I live to torment you. Anyway, as I was saying.

(Wraps his arms around Zayn) Fun fact: Zed here does not know how to swim.

JADE:  
You do _not_ not know how to swim, Zayn. Tell me this isn’t true. 

ZAYN:  
(Drops head to his chest) ’Tis true, unfortunately. A secret I’d hoped to bring with me to my grave. 

NIALL:  
A grave you’d probably have met drowning.

LIAM:  
(Looks at Zayn and whispers) Is it true? I could teach—

NIALL:  
Oi, manners Liam! In the vlogging world, we use our absolute most obnoxious outdoor voices. You’ve got one of those, eh?

LIAM:  
(Clears throat) Er, yes. I was just telling Zayn here that I could, um, teach him.

NIALL:  
(Grins and laughs) I’m sure Zayn would love that, wouldn’t you, Zee?

ZAYN glares at a laughing Niall, as Jade eyes them curiously and Liam stares at his fingers. 

JADE:  
(Looks at the camera and back to Niall) Hey, you. I was promised some help, yeah?

NIALL:  
Right! Now that Zayn’s here, I’m afraid we’ve got to go. This turned out to be way more exciting than I expected it to be.

ZAYN:  
(Mutters) At my expense.

NIALL:  
(Addresses Zayn) Who said anything about you? I was talking about the lovely Jade here.

(Stage kisses Jade’s cheek) Ah, Zayn, so full of yourself.

 JADE:  
Knock it off, you loon!

(To the screen) Thanks everyone for watching! I hope you got something out of it. You probably didn’t, but thank you, anyway! Remember, don’t be a stranger. But this is not my channel, so we best be off. Bye!

FADE OUT.

•

“Where are you going?”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, the sinking feeling of getting caught settling low in his belly. He thought he was going to be alone in the flat that afternoon, but he should have remembered that Liam had a spare key and the occasional 3-hour break for independent study. He looked over to their lumpy couch, where Liam was stretched out, having roused from his nap. His brows were wrinkled up in confusion, and although Liam didn’t look particularly suspicious or accusatory, Harry still felt guilty. For what, though, he couldn’t really say.

“Oh, uh. Hi,” he grimaced a little. Liam knew this to be Harry’s _Should I lie?_ face. And he also knew that Harry usually ended up telling the truth, so he elected to wait it out.

“Grimmy’s?” Harry said, Nick’s nickname tasting like a question on his tongue.

Liam balked a little, eyes growing wide, but he also knew well enough not to press the issue. “Um,” instead, was all he could say.

“I promised… I would help him… walk Pig,” Harry’s eyes were focused on the floor as he stuttered these words out, cheeks aflame, the sudden rush of blood bright red under his pale skin. Suddenly, Liam had a lot of questions.

“Oh,” was what he said, not knowing how to word anything in a way that doesn’t make Harry feel weird. Feeling Harry feel compelled to explain even further, Liam quickly added “Have fun, yeah? Please say hi to him for me.” Liam tried on a small smile for good measure, hoped his smile registered as encouraging. He had absolutely no clue what was going on, but he wasn’t about to make Harry feel bad about it. Harry’s head shot up really quickly, eyes transfixed on Liam, puzzled and relieved.

“Oh,” he said finally. “You’re not—?” Harry, confused, stopped himself and cleared his throat. His face broke out into a smile, sudden and sure. “Um, thank you. And I will? Yeah—thanks, Li.” Harry breathed out his relief and made his way out of his apartment, closing the door behind him.

Liam knew that Louis was Harry’s friend first, but sometimes he was glad they didn’t have what seemed to be a heavy history between them, like Harry had with Louis. Liam knew that Louis probably gave him crap for all of the Nick stuff when Liam wasn’t around. He knew that it was probably all the (at times unkind) teasing that’s been putting Harry on edge.

Louis had been pretty obvious about his distaste for Nick, both of them on a curt, last name basis. Liam didn’t know Nick’s side very well, but he did know that Nick can be just as unpleasant towards Louis.

On one instance, Louis went to one of Liam’s shows, and the conversation with Nick got so heated, Liam ended up freestyling a mix on the spot, just so that he wouldn’t have to put either of them on the air anymore for the rest of his shift. Louis rarely showed up at the station after that, and even then, he tried as much as possible to make sure that Nick wasn’t going to be around when he did drop by.

Of course, Liam wanted Harry to tell him all about this Nick thing, but he decided that he wouldn’t pry. He thought of this deliberate action akin to him not prying about Harry’s major. Or more importantly, the Louis thing, which Harry would sometimes hint at but never fully share. Besides, there were moments when Harry would look at him curiously, a question in his eyes—probably, no, _undoubtedly_ about the Zayn thing—yet he never pressed Liam either. 

An hour and a half after Harry left, Louis arrived home, unbuttoning his shirt before he even stepped foot in their flat. “Where’s Haz?” he asked Liam, who had been sitting at their small dining table, going over coursework.

“He, um, went to Nick’s,” Liam started. Something blazed behind Louis’s eyes, but he said nothing. Liam was suddenly unsure how to proceed. “To help walk… Pig. Since he um, promised. Apparently.”

Liam took off his glasses, which had slid a bit down his nose, preparing himself for one of Louis signature tirades. Instead, Louis’ body stiffens, going dangerously still. The quiet in the apartment unnerved Liam, more used to Louis’ loudness. Louis walked over to him silently, pulling up a chair beside Liam. He promptly deflates, upon sitting, hands balled into fists, knuckles turning a scary level of white.

“I just,” Louis said, releasing his fists and resting them on his thighs. “I get so worried about him, you know?” Louis voice hitched towards the end, as though choking off a sob or a laugh, Liam couldn’t quite tell which. 

Liam nodded, but truthfully, he was unable to comprehend what was so atrocious about Harry liking Nick. Liam liked Nick a lot. Not in the way Harry did, but he’s been almost like an older brother to Liam who had only grown up with sisters. He kept quiet, anyway, and let Louis continue. 

“Well,” Louis coughed out, finally. “I suppose this story was bound to come out some time. I’m sure you could tell that Harry and I are quite close, and that there’s something, like, special there. Or something.” Liam doesn’t say anything, but he tried to keep his face neutral and interested.

“Oh God, um,” he flicked his hair, puffing up his cheeks before exhaling. “Let’s see. Once upon a time, Harry and I were neighbors, in a teeny, tiny town just a few miles away from here. We ended up, I don’t know, kind of going out, but kind of not officially? It was kind of like, we weren’t together-together, but everyone kind of knew that we were very close, so no one else ever bothered to ask either of us out.” He laughed a little and rubbed his face a little roughly. He suddenly looked extremely tired to Liam.

“The whole sexual identity thing really came easily for Harry, but I was always just a tiny, tiny bit unsure,” Louis continued. “Well, to be honest I’ve always been just a tiny bit unsure about everything, really, but especially that. Anyway, so we were something like boyfriends, I guess you could say. And it was fine, for a while… Then, I dunno. It just didn’t feel right, anymore, towards the end. And I loved him so much—and I still do, will always, always—just not in the way that he needed me to.”

Liam looked over at Louis, then. His eyes were clear and bright, but tinged with a bit of hurt and panic. “Anyway, before I had to move away and go to school here, we ended things because I needed to figure some shit out on my own.” Louis looked down, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Haz tried to play it off as a mutual thing, but I know it gutted him. He’s a little bit used to people tripping over their feet for him, and I know he knows that I loved him, but I don’t think he quite got why I wasn’t _in love_ with him. Back then, anyway. I mean, I think he gets it now.” 

Liam nodded, but he kept quiet, urging Louis to proceed. Things started making a lot of sense to Liam, suddenly, and he was grateful that Louis trusted him with something he locked up tightly inside of himself. 

“Well, Harry’s Harry. He knew himself so well from when he was a kid, pretty much. But I don’t think he really realized at the time that it takes the rest of us a while to… figure things out,” Louis cleared his throat. “Um, anyway, so I guess it started with me taking a few classes, reading a few books, some nosing about on the Internet. ‘Normal’ things just didn’t feel right, didn’t quite fit with me, but I eventually figured out that I was aromantic.”

Liam was confused. This was new territory to him, something he hadn’t expected when he elected to spend his break at Louis and Harry’s for a nap and a quick catch-up with his academics. He doesn’t say anything, and Louis thankfully continued on. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m good at it, the whole romance thing. I’m real fucking good. I could probably get _you_ to say ’yes’ to marriage right now, if I really put my mind to it,” Louis laughed, a hint of bitterness lacing it. “But, as much as I loved seeing people get together and like, full on be in love with each other, I never really saw myself in that kind of love. I couldn’t, didn’t really want to be consumed so completely by another person.” _Not even Harry_ , Liam could almost hear Louis say. He swore he felt Louis shudder the slightest bit. He wrapped an arm around Louis and drew him closer, Louis breathing out a tense exhale.

“And Harry didn’t really take the news too well,” Louis had pressed himself firmly into Liam’s side, despite their awkward, uncomfortable positions in separate chairs. “He kind of slept around a lot, did a lot of… well, awful shit when I left. And I was close enough to keep an eye out for him, but still not quite close enough, you know? We fought a lot for a bit, lots of ugly words thrown around. And it wasn’t… it wasn’t always easy, like _this_.” 

Louis looked at Liam then, and Liam nodded because he understood what Louis meant. There had been an easy closeness between Harry and Louis, it was hard to imagine them in a state of constant argument. Louis spoke quietly now, the rest of his confession falling from his lips in whispers. “I’ve always been Harry’s anchor, so when he started to spiral out of control, I felt a little bit to blame. For like… leaving. For leaving him unmoored or something.” Louis swallowed a lump that had caught in his throat, his voice strained when he said, “I caught him before he floated away, thank God. And now we’re here.”

Liam nodded, trying to understand the intricacies of Louis and Harry, and Louis _and_ Harry, and although he didn’t quite get all of it, he felt compelled to try anyway. “Okay,” Liam began, unsure of how to proceed. “So, where do you fit in all of this, now?”

“I’m… not jealous, exactly,” Louis said, furrowing his brows in search of a way to answer the question—for Liam’s sake and his own, like this had been the first time he sat down to think about why he disliked the idea of Nick and Harry so much.. “It’s just—the past, _our_ past, is a dark place I never want to go back to. And, like, we’re not together, obviously, but I still love him in that weird, deep way you can’t shake off. So, you know, I have to look out for him, because… Well, I’ve got to. We’ve been through so much, and sometimes I forget that we’re, that we’re not, you know. I really can’t help but look out for him.”

The silence that ensued felt heavy and thick, like Louis’ secret, the one that Liam was sure he would never hear, and it hung in the air after it had been let out of its cage. Liam didn’t know what to say or do, except nod and rub soothing circles all along Louis’ back.

“Plus, I really, really hate that guy,” Louis groaned, breaking the tension and easing Liam into a more comfortable place.

“Really?” Liam barked out, laughing. “I couldn’t fucking tell.”

“Yeah, well. You know me,” Louis said, ruefully. “God, I have really been confusing Harold, haven’t I?”

“Nah,” Liam said, eyes crinkled up in a smile. “I’m sure Haz knows where you both stand now. I guess he just wants, I dunno, to be happy? He probably wants you to be proper happy for him… like, being happy. With um, Nick. Or whoever else comes along.” 

“You’re right,” Louis sighed. “I may have been a little bit of a dick.”

“Well,” Liam said with a small smile. “We all love you anyway, don’t we?” 

•

Liam didn’t get the point of going to the beach, especially when 99-percent of the time, the sky was grey there too, anyway. Zayn, he learned, thought as much, as well. “You really are perfect for each other,” Niall muttered on the drive over to the beach, looking at Liam on the rearview mirror. They got to the beach first, so they started unpacking.

Zayn’s face was arranged in a sour expression, dragging his feet across the sand as he reluctantly moved to help unload some things from the back of Niall’s truck. Liam knew that Zayn’s moods usually matched the weather. The sky was all gloom and doom right now, and so was Zayn. It was a little funny, seeing a grown man with a full beard wear such a petulant expression, and Liam would laugh except he didn’t really feel like the beach today, either.

Niall took a look at Zayn, probably expecting Zayn to at least pretend that he wasn’t hating every minute of this excursion. When his face remained unchanged, Niall rolled his eyes but said nothing, hauling some of their overnight equipment to the spot they had picked out to set up camp. Liam bumped Zayn’s hip with his own, making him look at him in surprise. 

“Hey,” Liam said. “Let’s have fun, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” Zayn said, rolling out the syllables for as long as he could. “I’m not going into the water, though.”

Niall, back to haul more stuff to their camp site, chuckled, “No one expects you to, mate.”

Harry’s car pulled up next to Niall’s truck. He’d been _very_ insistent on this beach date, going as far as being willing to endure a semi-long car ride with both Louis and Nick. Picking who rode shotgun was a tense affair that Liam didn’t feel like sticking around for. He peeked into the vehicle and discovered that Harry went the democratic route, sitting next to a huge beach bag, in effect forcibly putting the other two in the backseat next to each other. Liam chuckled to himself, thinking that Harry would be the only person he knew who would think this arrangement was a solution.

The doors to Harry’s car opened to the sound of bickering that Liam had learned to expect. He looked over to Harry, whose face was in a strange sort of panicked expression. He didn’t really want to be around for this, but he felt compelled to ease the tension.

“Hey, lads!” Liam called over, successfully capturing the attention of the two bickering men. “Er, our camp site’s that way.”

He pointed lamely towards the direction that Niall set off to. Harry shot him a grateful look. Zayn nudged Liam, carrying the last of their things, “Let’s get going, yeah?”

The day passed by pretty uneventfully. Niall, Nick, and Louis discovered a shared love for wading waist deep in freezing water. Harry set off to take photographs and hunt for some shells, and true to his word, Zayn steered clear of the water. For a while, they were cuddled up together, on a soft blanket outside their tent, Liam dozing off with arm under Zayn while he read a book quietly, tucked cozily by Liam’s side.

“Hey, Li. I need a smoke or something. I’m a little cold,” Zayn said. He folded the corner of his book to keep his place and tossed it softly on the blanket. “Mind if I head off to Niall’s truck for a bit?”

“I’ll come with,” Liam found himself saying. A small smile formed on Zayn’s lips, and they were quiet the entire walk there. Zayn ducked into the back part of the truck, Liam babbling softly close behind him. He cracked the window open, a little—“So we don’t suffocate”—and produced a joint from a tin case that was tucked in his pocket. Liam’s eyes grew wide as he registered what it was.

Zayn noticed Liam’s halted speech, putting two and two together. “Li, you haven’t—?” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Liam ducked his head low, shaking it. He had been around people who’ve toked up before, of course, but he had never partaken in what is becoming increasingly apparent to him another typical high school rite of passage he missed out on. He never did it, mainly because of track. Anyway, he always figured that hot boxing in Andy’s basement with everyone else back home was enough. He always felt a little lightheaded and queasy, emerging from that properly foggy square of space. It was enough, wasn’t it?

He felt his skin burn up, from embarrassment maybe, seeping out from under his skin to his cheeks, harsh and bright, before moving all the way down to his chest. He looked up at Zayn, cautious and a little shy, head too fuzzy to find a name for what he was feeling.

Zayn hooked a finger under his chin, tilting Liam’s face up towards him, a smug sideways smile finding its way to his lips. The angle offered Zayn a better view of Liam’s face and Liam could see his face a bit more clearly, too. There wasn’t any trace of teasing in it, only something curious and maybe a bit of mischief. 

“Hey, it’s okay, yeah?” he said, softly. His smile reached his eyes, strands of his hair escaping his headband, framing his face. Zayn reached into his back pocket, producing his lighter—a scratched up pink brick that was now a familiar sight to Liam. His calloused fingers cupped over the blunt between his lips, as he lit one of the ends, coming up short on the first strike of the spark wheel. Liam forgot everything as he watched Zayn bring the blunt to his lips, the cherry burning amber as he inhaled deeply. He looked over at Liam, an idea blooming in his brain.

Liam stilled, leaning his had back against the backseat as Zayn swung his left leg over his body. Zayn was straddling him, his weight resting on his shins, planted on either side of Liam’s lap. He brought his right hand down to rest on the surface—wall, window, whatever—beside Liam’s head. Eyes narrowed and heavy-lidded, Zayn took another drag from the blunt he held between his thumb and index finger. “Hold still,” he mumbled, breath ghosting against Liam’s skin. “I’ve got you, yeah?” Liam’s throat was parched and dry, but he had his wits about him enough to manage a weak nod. “Okay.”

Zayn smiled at him, eyes a touch unfocused. “Breathe in when I breathe out, okay?” Zayn said, playfully, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, as though he was giving a fake command. Liam smiled up at him, making Zayn smile back.

He took another drag from the joint, holding the smoke inside his mouth as he leaned in close to Liam’s face. His lips hovered over Liam lips, already slightly parted, probably from surprise. Zayn’s eyes crinkled up, head tipped up and mouth closed trying to keep the smoke from leaking out. He tapped the corner of Liam’s lips with his left pinkie, careful to keep the blunt from touching his face. Liam opened his mouth, startled, and before he knew it, Zayn’s lips were brushing lightly against his.

Zayn blew a steady stream of smoke into Liam’s mouth, and he tried to remember what Zayn had told him to do— _breathe in when I breathe out_ —but it was hard to concentrate when a beautiful boy was so much closer to him than he ever thought possible.

“Good boy,” Zayn said. “Feel it fill you up here, yeah?” He rubbed Liam’s chest with purpose, words slurring together as his accent falls looser. Liam nodded, eager to do this right.

“Okay, then let go,” Zayn instructed. Liam exhaled just as Zayn drew in another hit from the stub of a roach in his fingers.

Liam found himself looking up at Zayn, eyes bright and red-rimmed, who in turn had pulled back to look at Liam. Zayn started to climb off Liam’s lap, pushing himself off his hand and shins, but Liam holds Zayn’s thighs down, pressing him back down against him. “Again,” he managed to rasp out, Zayn’s face breaking out into a bigger smile.

He pulled himself slightly off of Liam’s lap, weight still leaning on his shins with his back held up straighter than it was. Liam slid a bit lower in his seat, almost horizontal on the floor of the backseat of Niall’s truck. Zayn was towering over him, leaning his head down over his. Wayward strands of Zayn’s hair tickled Liam’s face.

“Open up." 

They’re sprawled together on the floor of the truck’s box in a giggling tangle of limbs when Louis passed by the truck a few minutes later. He was dripping from his dip in the pool, white shirt sticking to his damp body. “What in the—“

For a split second, Liam was scared of Louis saying something stupid (because he knew Louis would), breaking his quiet moment with Zayn. But Louis just stepped over the mess they’ve made of themselves, finding an unoccupied spot somewhere between Zayn and Liam. 

“Share,” he said simply. Zayn smirked and took an unlit blunt tucked behind his ear and lit it up for Louis. The rest of the afternoon went by slowly, Liam trapped in a rosy-minded fuzz, unable to think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

•

They left the beach early the next morning, on their way to a music festival a few hours away from home. Although they were bone-tired and frankly, a little too stoned to be driving on a highway, they managed to make it to the festival in one piece. It was a rare event during which all of their musical specificities were met, which was what made Harry really push for all of them to join in. Liam suspects that it’s another way to integrate Nick into their small circle, as though a change of environment might allow some type of bond to actually form between Nick and their mates—Louis, particularly—instead of short bursts of uneventful bickering.

Liam reckoned it worked somehow as Nick and Louis were both working on setting up their tent, both pausing every few minutes in a fit of marijuana-induced giggles. “Looks like they’re getting along,” Liam quipped, pointing at the two loud piles helplessly trying to put up a tent. He was standing close by, thinking he could probably help out and set the tent up in minutes, but he figured he’d let them sort their issues out through shared failure. 

Harry’s mouth quirked up into a smile, “You think so?” 

“Yeah,” Liam breathed out. “I really do.” 

“Hey, what’s up with you and Zayner?” Harry countered. Liam laughed, almost choking on a sip of beer, totally not expecting this line of questioning. Not that he minded.

“I dunno,” he said. “He’s basically perfect, isn’t he? I think I want to keep him.”

“Reckon you could,” Harry said. “I hope you do. No trouble in paradise yet? Any hidden secrets?” 

Liam thought about it. There was something that had been bothering him, but it was such a small and selfish thing. Not even trouble, really, just another type of personal neurosis to file away. “Hmm, not that I can think of,” he said, quite vaguely. He looked at Harry, whose face was earnest and genuinely concerned. He couldn’t help himself but spill, then. “I mean, I really want to keep him, but I don’t think he wants to stay.” 

Harry, puzzled, prodded further. “What d’you mean?”

“He’s a bit like you, yeah? S’got big dreams and all, doesn’t really want to stick around, I don’t think,” Liam said carefully. “He says he feels stuck here, so I don’t really know how long I have him for before he ups and leaves. To be honest, I don’t really know what we are, exactly.”

“Aw, babe,” Harry sighed. He placed a kiss on Liam’s temple. “I’m sure, like 100 percent sure, he doesn’t want to leave you.” Liam was quiet for a while, staring a bit at the grass. He let the music course through him, carried over in a wave of Nick and Louis’s laughter. Zayn and Niall tried to go closer to the stage, listening to the music as one of the acts they went to the festival for was playing. They were also trying to get some footage of the festival that weren’t just two idiots trying to put up a tent that probably wasn’t going to fit all of them. 

“The funny thing is I think he’d probably ask me to leave with him,” Liam admitted. “And I’m not really sure that I can.” Liam looked at Harry and realized what he had just said. “Please don’t mention this to anyone, yeah? I think I’m probably just over thinking again. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, no, of course, Li,” Harry replied, face creased in worry that Liam wanted to erase. “Anything you need.”

• 

Zayn turned to face him and asked, “D’you maybe want to see my studio?” They had just finished having lunch on a Saturday (Liam made sure he finished all of his coursework before setting off to see Zayn) and were pulling out of the restaurant’s driveway. A flush crept across his face and Liam realized that he hadn’t really seen Zayn this flustered before.

“Yeah, alright,” he breathed out, earning a small smile from Zayn. 

It wasn’t a long drive from where they’d eaten, which was quite near the museum from all those weekends ago. They were cruising around for about fifteen minutes, Zayn pointing various places of interest—“That’s where Niall and I like grabbing a cuppa,” and “That’s my favorite book store. The cat likes me, and so does the owner, I reckon”—before pulling up into a small, two-story commercial space. The storefront was a small gallery, housing a wild installation that Liam thought Louis would love very much. The building was a cold, square structure of cement and big windows.

“I’m upstairs,” Zayn said, getting out of the car carefully. He was squinting, though Liam observed that the day was mostly grey and damp. “I work some shifts here, and Josie, the owner, lets me use the space upstairs to kick about and paint. She very well may be my first patron, eh? The Saatchi to my Saville or summat.” He put on his leather jacket, and kicked his boots on the ground before locking the door. 

Liam nodded, not quite getting the joke but gathering enough of it to know what Zayn meant. “Show me where the magic happens, yeah?”

“Sod off,” Zayn said playfully. He walked up to the big wooden doors and pushed in purposefully with his shoulder. After exchanging a few pleasantries with Josie, a short Asian woman in her mid-forties, he led Liam upstairs. Zayn paused before opening the door. “Alright, it’s not much, but um. Well, here it is. I was planning on repainting the walls, but I gave up midway. Figured I’d paint my canvases instead.”

Zayn laughed lightly as Liam took everything in. The walls were a dirty warm grey, like untreated cement dotted with half-hearted strokes of a different shade of grey. There were canvases of every size, in various stages of completeness, stacked together like records, leaning against a wall. Propped by the door was a short wicker chair, and on it rested a tiny, old stereo and a selection of CDs. Under it, there was a sizable stack of art books and zines by local artists.

On the far wall was an even bigger bookshelf, piled high and full of books and other little sculptures and photographs. Tacked on the wall by a working desk were local gig posters that looked like Zayn had made them. There was a red Moka pot on a tiled counter, beside a frankly disgusting sink, some DVDs—Kurosawa, Godard, _Frozen_ —a computer and stacks of external hard drives, and a hunter green loveseat that was set, inexplicably, in the middle of the room.

“Well? Say something, hey,” Zayn urged gently, talking in a voice just slightly above a whisper. “You’re proper breaking my heart over here, being all quiet like that.”

“Sorry,” Liam said, huffing out a nervous laugh. He added quickly, “This is amazing, Zayn.”

Suddenly shy, Zayn took Liam by the hand, lacing their fingers together, and led him to the working desk, setting his bag down next to his desk with his free hand. “Can I show you what I was working on?”

“Of course, love,” Liam said, blushing at the nickname he didn’t mean to slip out. He tensed up, though Zayn just giggled, letting go of Liam’s hand and rummaging through his bag. With two hands, he quietly and unceremoniously handed Liam a ripped page from his sketch pad, face down. Liam’s mouth turned down into a from, but when Liam turned the sheet over, it became a look of surprise.

“Oh,” he whispered softly. It was a quick sketch of Liam, sat in the museum, eyes fixed in concentration as he tried to copy what he thought Zayn had been copying, too. Even though the strokes were simple, as quick sketches usually are, he could tell it was gf him. Zayn somehow made his face look younger, too, though there was an expression of maturity or wisdom, he’s not quite sure. Something Liam definitely doesn’t quite feel that he is.

“This is amazing, Z,” Liam said, realizing belatedly that that was what he had also just said about Zayn’s studio. Zayn laughed softly in response. “Can I keep this?”

“That depends,” Zayn replied quietly. A soft smile stayed on his lips, but Liam recognized the look of want obvious in Zayn’s eyes.

“On what?” he said, swallowing thickly in an attempt to tease Zayn a bit. He set the paper down on the desk, not waiting for a response, bringing his hands to Zayn’s arms and leading them both to the sofa. He crowded Zayn, pulling both of them down onto the loveseat, still facing each other.

“It depends,” Zayn answered, breathlessly, “on if you’d let me kiss you.” A moment passed and Liam felt all the blood leave his brain and rush to his face all at once.

“Would have done it without the drawing,” Liam laughed, incandescently happy about the boy in front of him. They kissed until their jaws hurt and Liam’s stomach rumbled loud enough for both of them to hear. Laughing, Zayn called for pizza, sharing a few slices with Josie who left shortly after, reminding Zayn to lock up before he left. Zayn put on some music and asked if he could work on a few pieces for school. Liam did a bit of reading ahead for school, Zayn’s music playing soft enough to be bearable.

Liam realized, belatedly, that this was the first time he had seen him with his glasses on on person, and the sight of Zayn moving around large canvases in a thin white shirt and spectacles quite literally took his breath away. Liam pressed the heel of his hand on his crotch and shifted his position to throw off suspicion, but he thought he saw a smirk bloom on Zayn’s face anyway.

It wasn’t long before Zayn crowded Liam’s space on the loveseat, paintings and readings forgotten in the swell of their lips and the heat of their bodies. The sun had set before anyone spoke again. “We better go,” Zayn said. “It’s getting dark.” Liam collected his things as Zayn cleared his messes. They made sure all of the lights and electronics were turned off. As Zayn locked up, Liam urged him to make sure all the alarms were in order, causing Zayn to chuckle.

“Relax, babe,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

The air was chilly and quite nice. Liam didn’t want to go home yet, but he wasn’t sure they were up for dinner just yet. He was trying to think of an excuse to stay longer, as he slid into his seat and adjusted the vents of the air conditioner.

“Hey,” Zayn said, turning to face him as they strapped on their seat belts. He put his hand on Liam’s cheek and sing-songed, “Do you want to come over and kill some time?”

“Sure,” Liam chuckled, “Of course.” And then, in an inspired act of rare boldness, he added, “Or I could sleep over?” He bit his lip and winced as he heard the words leave his lips. Zayn’s face, however, split into a wide smile.

“I’d love that very much, Liam.”

The drive to Zayn’s place was longer than he anticipated, but shorter, too. Zayn reached over to take Liam’s hand as he drove, his other hand placed firmly on the wheel, a permanent twinkle set in his eyes.

 


End file.
